


The Disputed Crown

by nothingelsematters



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Arranged Marriage AU, F/M, M/M, Royalty AU, because of course they like to screw with succession planning, campnanowrimo because this one is better, kingdom au, lol wtf am i doing, oh look another epic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingelsematters/pseuds/nothingelsematters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her eighteenth birthday, Princess Gracie is told she has been betrothed to the second-born Prince of another country. Resigned to an arranged marriage, she prepares for her wedding. But something's not right.</p>
<p>From the moment he arrives, Prince Joshua has eyes only for her older brother and the heir to the throne, Prince Jason. Meanwhile, the Princess is unaware that she has become an object of desire for the Prince's bodyguard, Sir Aaron.</p>
<p>And other events are afoot. Queen Tarasova has turned her attention away from her perpetual war with King Evgeni and his brother Prince Artur to forward the interest of her own son and daughter. She's determined to set both of them on the thrones of vast empires...no matter the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Birthday, Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Stupid plotbunnies. Always attacking at ridiculously inconvenient and silly times.

The day of Princess Gracie’s eighteenth birthday was one of grand celebration. A public holiday throughout the kingdom, the people used the day to rejoice and celebrate both royal children.

The son and the daughter of the King were widely admired and adored throughout Illona. The son, Prince Jason, while not classically handsome, was charming and delightful, always attentive, giving freely of his time and energy to both the impressive foreign diplomats down to the servants on the farms. He wore his honey-coloured hair long, but the ponytail he kept it in was somehow always immaculate; his dark eyes were always laughing. Wise and graceful, he was the heir to the throne, one day to be King.

The daughter, Princess Grace, or Gracie as she was known to most, was only a year younger than her brother; the surprise gift for her parents. She was the sort of Princess that the storytellers made fairytales of; taller than her brother, slender, with long golden hair and the most expressive dark eyes. Though she was not as openly loving and free as her brother, once the cool carapace was cracked, she would smile and laugh with anybody who cared to listen.

As it turned out, the Princess ended up being the only one in the kingdom _not_ celebrating on her birthday.

“You’ve done _what_?” she gasped, staring in utter disbelief at her parents.

“You heard us, Gracie,” her father answered. “We have arranged your marriage.”

“But _why_?” Gracie burst out, the colour high in her cheeks. “ _Why_ , for heaven’s sake? I’m just eighteen! I’m not even the heir, Jason is!”

Jason, who had just walked in the door, blinked in confusion at the scene before him.

“You know the tradition,” the Queen answered primly. “The Prince cannot marry before he reaches the age of twenty. But a Princess, on the other hand, must be wed before her nineteenth birthday.”

“You know as well as I that that tradition is stupid!” Gracie raged. “Have you no care for my feelings?”

“You are a Princess, Gracie,” the King rebuked sharply. “Did you imagine that you would marry for love? A ludicrous notion. None of those born to the royal line will ever marry for love, for we must marry practically. You have known this since you were a child. You have a duty to this country, Gracie. It is not a duty you can simply lay aside.”

Gracie could do nothing but stare at her parents in horror. Then suddenly she broke and fled the room.

“That could have gone worse,” the King sighed.

“It could have gone better,” the Queen countered. “But you are right. She must grow up. It is her fate.”

Jason slipped out of the room and went after his sister.

*

Gracie was sobbing into her pillow when the soft knock came at her door.

“Go away!” she bawled at it. She didn’t want to be disturbed.

The door opened, and then it seemed to her that warmth filled the room.

“Gracie?”

The bed dipped, and a large hand settled on her back, and Gracie sobbed harder, because here was her sweet darling brother, and she knew he would understand.

After a little while, she sat up, and Jason pulled her into a hug.

“Are you all right?”

“I just got told my life is over,” Gracie said miserably. “What do you think?”

Jason held her close, stroking her hair.

“Your life’s not over, Gracie. It’s just...changing, that’s all.”

“Easy for you to say,” she sniffed. “You’re not the one who has to get married. Don’t you know what this means? A life of boring court appearances, when I’m not having the children I’ll be expected to have. A life as an ornament.”

“You think I’m more than an ornament?” Jason raised his eyebrows.

“You’ll be King one day. And I’ll be the one expected to keep the home fires burning if you go off to war, to sit and await your stories when you get home. Oh Jason, once upon a time our ancestors were Warrior Queens! I don’t want to be coddled and protected. I don’t want to be an ornament!”

“Hey, anyone who knows you knows you’re more than an ornament. I haven’t forgotten how many times you’ve kicked my butt on the training field. And I’ve never met anyone more skilled with the bow.”

“ _You_ know that. But what about _him_? Oh Jason, what if I don’t like him? What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Nonsense,” Jason said sharply. “Any man with eyes who isn’t gay likes you. And I’m sure he’ll be wonderful. He’ll be handsome and charming and everything perfect, and you’ll fall in love with him and on your wedding day you’ll have true love’s first kiss.” Jason smiled, stroking Gracie’s hand.

Gracie laughed. “Oh Jason, you don’t believe in fairytales any more than I do.”

“You know I don’t. But if you don’t think positive, you’ll drive yourself mad.”

“True.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Have you told them?” Gracie asked.

Jason shook his head sadly. “You know I can’t,” he answered. “It’s not possible. I can’t tell them. I’m the heir; I have to have heirs.”

Gracie leaned on her brother and sighed.

“I don’t even know his name.”

“Ah, well, here I have the advantage.”

“What?”

Jason grinned. “I may or may not have plied our parents with questions.”

“Tell me!”

“His name is Joshua,” Jason revealed. “The second-born son of the Coloda royal family. Very rich, very powerful. I’m told he’s also very handsome, but I don’t know how much of that is true. They’ll be here in three weeks’ time to settle all the arrangements.”

“Joshua,” Gracie tested the name; it sat awkwardly on her tongue, instead of rolling off smoothly, as she’d always imagined her lover’s name to. But that was just another dream. She sighed.

“I have to do this, don’t I?”

Jason just pulled her to him again and sighed.


	2. Royal Visitors

“I really don’t want to do this,” Prince Joshua grumbled under his breath.

“Sire, you have said that about ten _thousand_ times,” the guard riding at his side sighed. “Give it up, it’s not changing.”

Joshua’s face lightened and he smiled.

“I’m sorry, Max. I know, I know, I’ve been horribly grumpy lately.”

“Well, to be fair, you have just been told you don’t have a choice of bride,” Max answered reasonably.

“I’m just worried, Max. What if she doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like her? What if I can’t love her, Max? What if I can’t be a good husband to her?”

Max noticed how pale his Prince was and knew this wasn’t any lighthearted fear. Joshua was genuinely terrified of messing this up. And Max knew why, not that he’d ever tell anyone.

“You’ve nothing to worry about,” Max answered reassuringly. “You can just smile at her with those big blue eyes of yours and she’ll fall right at your feet.”

Joshua scowled at Max. He was shy of his looks and hated to be reminded that with his pale blue eyes, pale skin, and dark hair, he was considered very handsome by pretty much everyone.

“And don’t forget your etiquettes while we’re there, sire,” Max continued in a different tone. They had almost reached the castle. “We want to make a good impression.”

Joshua relaxed and grinned. “Of course, Sir Aaron,” he answered in an over-exaggerated formal tone. “I would not wish anyone to think ill of us.”

Max rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh.

*

“Oh gosh, they’re here,” Gracie paced back and forth nervously. “Oh gosh. Jase, how do I look?”

“Very beautiful,” Jason answered warmly, appraising his sister’s royal blue gown. “He’ll adore you, I’m sure.”

She grabbed his hand.

“Oh god Jase, say you’ll be there when I have to meet him.”

“Of course I will,” Jason replied, kissing her hair gently, so as not to muss it. “I’ll always be with you. You know that.”

A soft tap came on the door; one of the servants entered.

“Your Highness? The visitors have arrived. Their Majesties wish me to send you to the small greeting chamber.”

Gracie whirled to face Jason, her face pale. He smiled at her and offered her his arm.

“Come, little sister. Let’s go meet your betrothed.”

*

“Your Highness, may I speak?” Max asked formally as he and Joshua were led to the greeting chamber.

“You may,” Joshua answered distractedly.

“Then I shall say: stop fussing!” Making sure the servant wasn’t looking, Max slapped Joshua’s hands away from his cloak clasp. “You look fine, my lord.”

“Do I?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Max answered with as much emphasis as was polite for public domain.

The servant bowed to them and knocked on the door they had just come to.

Max heard Joshua whispering in a panicked tone under his breath, and elbowed him, humming a quiet, calming tone in Joshua’s ear.

The door opened.

*

Gracie thought her heart was going to leap through her throat when the door opened; she was sure everyone in the room must be able to hear it, galloping and racing along.

She wished Jason was next to her, but they were following royal protocol, meaning that Jason was standing on the right of his father, and she was to the left of her mother.

She folded her hands into her gown so that no-one could see they were shaking.

Then the chamberlain’s voice announced, “His Royal Highness Prince Joshua of Coloda, and Sir Max Aaron of Coloda.”

Gracie swallowed as two young men entered the room. The taller man in front, obviously the Prince, was very good-looking, and his smile, while nervous, seemed genuine. But the shorter man behind him, stocky and muscular, had the sort of face that Gracie wanted to reach out and stroke; his dark eyes swept about the room, and settled on her for a moment. They widened slightly, and then he continued his looking around, as though nothing had happened; but Gracie was shaking inside.

The two young men were bowing to the King and Queen; Gracie forced herself to pay attention.

*

Joshua instinctively felt for Max’s presence behind him as they walked into the room; he couldn’t deny that he was terrified. He heard Max’s footsteps, his calm, steady breathing, and that in turn calmed him; he managed a smile as he bowed to the King and Queen and prepared for introductions.

The Princess was beautiful, regal, and elegant, everything he had expected to find, though her cool expression made him quail. But when he turned to the Prince, he found himself unable to think straight.

For the Prince’s ready smile, his kind eyes, and his gentle voice made Joshua’s heart flutter in a way he had never felt before; the warmth in his handshake made Joshua’s hands tremble.

He blinked, and tried to snap himself out of it. _Pay attention to the Princess. She is your betrothed._

*

The King and Queen were quite content to preside over the small state dinner, observing that the Prince of Coloda spent much time looking towards the other side of the table where the Prince and Princess sat. And the guard with him, too, was very attentive, helping his Prince, they thought.

What they couldn’t see was that Joshua’s gaze was on Jason twice as often as on Gracie; and that Max could not look away from the beauty of the Princess.

But not all eyes on that table were so blind, and not all minds failed to make the connections.


	3. The Awkwardness of Chaperones

“Well?” Jason asked as he plonked himself down on Gracie’s bed, hairbrush in hand. “Do you like him?”

“I don’t really know. We didn’t exactly get to talk much last night.”

“Well, state dinners are never good conversation starters,” Jason grinned, pulling Gracie closer to him so he could start brushing her hair. “But I have nefarious plans to get you two alone at some point today.”

“Alone!” Gracie swatted him, then remembered: _do not annoy he who holds the hairbrush._ “You know that’s against all propriety.”

“Well, I didn’t mean _alone_ alone. Just sort-of-alone, with a chaperone tagalong.”

“And who might that be?”

“Why, your overprotective big brother, of course,” Jason beamed, putting down the brush and beginning to divide Gracie’s hair. “Who better?”

“He did bring a guard.”

“He did, but we can’t allow the guard to be the chaperone just yet. Not until your big brother is satisfied that this wild heathen from a far-off land has no improper customs,” Jason air-quoted, laughing. “Yes, I did actually hear one of the courtiers complaining about that last night.”

“Oh, which one?”

“Not sure. Zakrasjek, I think. You know, the one with the son that he tried to get you married to last year.”

“Oh yes, I remember now.”

“Of course, I don’t actually think this Prince Joshua would take any liberties with you,” Jason continued, moving Gracie’s hair as he tried to decide how best to braid it. “He is a Prince, after all, and royalty is the same everywhere; stuffy, stuck-up, and drenched in tradition.”

Gracie dissolved into giggles.

“But one must always consider the look of the thing,” and now Jason’s voice was mimicking their father, who was always very concerned about appearances. Gracie giggled again.

“Well, as long as you don’t hover too close. I want to actually be able to talk to him.”

“Of course,” Jason smiled. “There, done. Do you like it?”

He had done three small braids on each side of her head, and then drawn them all together at the back with a butterfly-shaped clip, with the majority of her hair hanging loose.

“Very nice,” she smiled. “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought you might take him for a ride around the castle grounds,” Jason suggested innocently.

Gracie shoved him unceremoniously off her bed.

*

Max answered the knock on the door to their guest chambers and accepted the note.

“What is it, Max?” Joshua called from inside his dressing-room.

“It is a note from the Princess, inviting you to go riding with her this morning, that she may show you the grounds.”

“Riding, hmm?” Joshua mumbled. “Where the hell did I put my riding clothes?”

“I told you you should have brought Lukas,” Max said without even looking.

“I can manage without my valet for a few weeks, Max.”

“I don’t even have to look in there to know it’s turned into the aftermath of a multiple fatality.”

“As long as my riding clothes aren’t among the fatalities, we’re all good.”

“Lukas would have a fit.”

“That’s why he’s not here.”

“Tell me that again when you can’t find your clothes for dinner.”

A most un-Princely raspberry was his only response.

*

The group of four met at the stables with considerable surprise.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, I was not expecting you today,” Joshua said nervously, unable to look at the golden Prince.

“I shall not bother you. I shall ride a short way behind, and act as a chaperone. Believe me when I say that my sister’s best interests are at heart; I wish for her and you to have a meaningful conversation, Your Highness.”

“Oh, I see,” Joshua replied, and Jason was surprised – was that a flicker of hurt, or upset, over that handsome face?

The horses were brought out. Max and Joshua took a moment to check over theirs, to make sure they had recovered from the long journey the day before; Jason and Gracie hung back.

Gracie found herself watching Sir Aaron as he bent over to inspect his horse’s legs; gods above, but this man was so...fit! The riding outfit he was wearing did a poor job of hiding his body; he was clearly muscular, toned and strong from fighting and practice, and when he bent down, Gracie had to look away and chastise herself. For one, she was supposed to be looking at her future husband; and for two, it was _most_ unladylike to be staring at a knight’s behind!

Jason, for once, didn’t notice his sister’s distress. He couldn’t help but watch as Prince Joshua’s delicate, gentle hands ran over the horse, his soft voice talking quietly and reassuringly as he moved with tender care. There was a relaxed look on his face that Jason found himself enchanted by, and he found himself envying his sister. He would dearly love to get to know the young man behind the princely facade.

He caught his train of thought, horrified, and quickly looked down, fiddling with the reins in his hands. He could not – _must not_! – act on such feelings. He was the Prince, the Heir to the throne, and he would be expected to marry and have heirs of his own. Jason sighed heavily. His parents did not know his secret, and they never could.

“Are we ready, Your Highnesses?” Max asked. Jason nodded and glanced at Gracie, who was gathering up the reins.

“Yes, I think we are,” Jason answered. “Sir Aaron, you will ride by my side, and allow Prince Joshua and Princess Gracie some conversation.”

“Very good, Your Highness,” Max answered neutrally; he was glad that the Prince seemed keen on his sister getting to know Joshua, but something in his chest ached at the thought.

They rode for several hours, Joshua and Gracie in front, Max and Jason several lengths behind. Joshua and Gracie spoke quietly together; at first their conversation was stilted, awkward, and formal.

Then Joshua had an idea.

“Your brother seems to care a great deal for you, Princess.”

“Yes,” and Gracie flashed Joshua a warm smile. “He is the best brother a lady could want. We have been best friends since we were babies.”

“It must have been very fun, having a brother so close in age.”

“Yes,” and now Gracie’s smile was not hidden; she relaxed. “Yes, we got into plenty of trouble. Mostly my doing, of course, almost never his, but he always took the blame and protected me. He has always protected me.”

Joshua smiled. “I can imagine. My brother and I were too far apart in age to get into much mischief as children. By the time I was old enough for such, he was already beginning his classes.”

Gracie nodded. “The fun didn’t stop for us when classes began.” She grinned. “We used to get into so much trouble!”

“I’d like to hear it,” Joshua said keenly, and Gracie smiled at him and launched into some of her favourite childhood memories.

Joshua felt guilty at the smile; Gracie must have thought he was really interested in her, when it wasn’t her he wanted to hear about at all.

*

Meanwhile, the pair riding behind them had been silent for well over an hour before Max spoke.

“Things appear to be going rather smoothly, don’t you think, Your Highness?”

“Yes, indeed, Sir Aaron.” Jason made an effort to pull himself out of his thoughts. “Your Prince is a fine young man. I am sure he and my sister will be very happy.”

“He is the best young man I know, Your Highness, and that’s the honest truth,” Max answered. “Loyal and caring. Your sister could not ask for a better husband.”

The words hurt to leave his mouth, and Max could not understand why.

“Yes,” Jason answered, but when his gaze returned to the front, it lingered rather on the young Prince, than his sister; he didn’t realise that Max’s eyes were set on her instead.


	4. Retreat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight change of scene now.

“Your Majesty, I believe we need to consider reinforcing the men at this front,” the general spoke earnestly. “It is our weakest point in the line, and surely they will try to come through if we do not reinforce it.”

King Evgeni of Rusal leaned forward over the map and examined the point that the general was indicating.

“You may be right, General Kulik,” he answered. “I can’t imagine Tarasova not taking advantage of any weakness we present to her.”

He straightened up stiffly and limped across to the large pinboard that held details of all their recent movements. King Evgeni was a young King – still only in his early thirties – but he had been at war with Queen Tarasova of Mosca ever since he had ascended the throne, and he had been fighting on the front line since he was old enough to wield a longsword. The years of war had taken their toll, and an unfortunate encounter with the feisty General Chief of Mosca, Yagudin, had left him too injured to ride to the fronts anymore.

A knock came on the council chamber door, and the chamberlain entered and bowed.

“Your Majesty, His Royal Highness has arrived.”

“Excellent,” Evgeni beamed. “Send him in here.”

“I figured this was where you’d be,” came the answer, and Prince Artur strode in, shedding his cloak carelessly on a chair by the door. He paused to air-kiss his older brother’s cheeks.

“So, little brother,” Evgeni said seriously. “What news do you bring?”

“Something very odd indeed, big brother,” Artur answered. “Our eyes have not deceived us. All along the front, the soldiers of Mosca are retreating. There’s not a place they’re not retreating. That’s why I’m late; I rode the entire line to be sure.”

Evgeni frowned, his eyes sweeping over the map.

“Queen Tarasova has been at war with us for twenty years,” he said slowly. “She has sworn often enough that she will never stop.”

Artur made no answer; Evgeni looked up and realised that every single person in the council chamber was hanging onto his words.

“Come, brother,” he said firmly, thinking swiftly. “You must be exhausted and hungry after your long ride. Let us go and dine together. There is much that I would talk with you about, and doubtless you will be keen to rest.”

“Indeed, brother,” Artur answered, making the King a small bow and falling into step just behind him. Together they left the chamber, and a flurry of worried whispers followed in their wake.

*

Their walk back to the family’s private dining chambers was silent; neither would risk saying anything where unwelcome ears might hear it. Evgeni smiled as he felt his brother’s presence, one step behind him, Artur shortening his soldier’s stride to match his brother’s limp.

Artur had been the surprise, the child his parents never meant to have. It was not usual for families of the Ruslan royal line to have more than one child; and certainly they never had more than one son.  And yet, not long after Evgeni’s eleventh birthday, his baby brother had come into the world.

Some people had muttered and considered the birth of a second son unlucky, but Evgeni knew he couldn’t do without Artur now. Though his brother was just nineteen, he had already been on the front line fighting for three years, and had proven himself a fierce and capable warrior. But more important to Evgeni was that Artur could be his eyes and ears; the authority of the Prince would not be gainsaid, and Evgeni could trust Artur to relay his orders.

They were greeted at the dining room by Queen Yana, who had been chasing Evgeni’s elder son and heir, Yegor, to get his evening bath. Yegor idolised his father and raced straight off to his chambers when Evgeni gave him a stern look. Evgeni, like his father before him, had been blessed to father two children with his Queen; the younger, Alexander, was still a baby, sleeping in his cot.

Yana greeted Artur warmly, but excused herself; she knew that the brothers wished to catch up with each other as well as discuss matters of state, and though Evgeni often included her in such discussions, she realised that there would be time later for Evgeni to tell her what she needed to know. Artur had been away for six months; she would let them reconnect.

(Besides, Evgeni always told her everything. It was well-known that the Queen was the King’s sounding board, and it had been why Evgeni had gone against the council’s wishes to marry her in the first place.)

*

“It is definitely a retreat?”

“Definitely,” Artur confirmed, swallowing down the last of his food with a happy sigh. The meals served in the castle were so much more satisfying than the rations he’d been living off for the past six months. “The whole line. They’re all going. The Queen has recalled them to Mosca.”

“Hmm,” Evgeni leaned back with his wine. “I don’t like this, one bit. She’s planning something. Something big.”

“Something deceitful too, I imagine,” Artur replied, pouring himself a glass. He hesitated.

“What is it, Artur? There’s something you’re leaving out.”

“I...I bumped into Prince Maxim while scouting one of the retreats,” Artur admitted.

Evgeni sat bolt upright.

“He’s in the field now?”

“Yes. And Zhenya...all those bragging tales of his skill that came out of the Mosca castle...they weren’t lying.”

Artur half-turned away, avoiding his brother’s eye, and Evgeni suddenly noticed the long, pink, barely-healed slash behind his ear and down his neck.

“Artur!”

“I came off second-best,” Artur admitted. “It was all I could do to escape. He’s strong, Zhenya, and talented with a blade. But there was something...more.”

“More?”

“Yes. It didn’t seem...natural.”

Evgeni subsided into his chair, his frown deepening.

“We’ve never seen the Prince before,” he murmured. “We’ve been fighting for years, and now suddenly the armies are in full retreat and Prince Maxim is out and about...”

“Zhenya, I...” Artur stood up and started pacing; Evgeni noticed that his brother was limping very slightly. “I’m worried, Zhenya. It can’t be a coincidence that the Prince was seen at the same time as the armies are retreating. I think she’s going to try a more direct route, Zhenya. I think Maxim will come to challenge us himself, instead of fighting a war.”

“If he does, we shall be ready for him,” Evgeni answered, standing tall – and getting quite the surprise as he realised that Artur, who had been roughly the same height as him when he left, was now a good two inches taller.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Artur said quietly. “Zhenya, I lost badly. I...I don’t think I could beat him. And you...” Artur hung his head.

Evgeni stepped forward and hugged Artur tightly. Artur relaxed into his hold; they showed physical affection so rarely, but he cherished every moment.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, little brother,” Evgeni said fiercely. “I will give much before I let some pretentious little upstart – let alone Queen Tarasova’s brat – sit upon my throne!”

Artur held his brother tightly, and did not voice the thought in his mind.

_Brother, he will not give you the choice._


	5. The Practice Field

Max walked outside, the cool breeze refreshing against his skin. He hated being stuck in the castle, hated not going on long patrols, hated pretty much everything about being housebound. But since Prince Joshua was going to be here some weeks yet, so was he.

Today, however, Josh was in the library with Prince Jason, going over the traditions and cultures of Illona. Josh loved history, so Max was not surprised that he had been so eager to go.

Max decided to go for a walk down to the practice fields. He was sure there would be someone around to spar with. He could use a good practice fight, work the kinks out of his muscles, let out some of his frustration, and forget that other feeling that he didn’t dare think about.

As he drew closer to the practice ground, he saw someone standing at the archery range end, taking shot after shot at the row of targets. Whoever they were, they were _good_ ; Max wasn’t much of an archer himself, but he could certainly appreciate talent, and this archer rarely placed an arrow outside the bullseye.

As Max drew closer, intending to speak with the archer and voice his admiration of their skills, he realised who it was.

_Princess Gracie!_

Max immediately stopped dead and found a place to watch where he was sure he could not be seen. For some reason, he didn’t want the Princess to know he was here, watching her practice.

Max, of course, knew many female warriors; some of the knights of Coloda were women, and the fiercest warriors Max knew. But somehow, seeing a Princess, a girl born and raised in pampered, coddled nobility, with obvious fighting skill was intriguing to him. He wanted to see more.

She was dressed for practice, too, in a close-fitting leather jerkin over a long tunic and leggings. Her gauntlets were embossed with some kind of pattern, which Max decided must be native to Illona. Her golden hair was tied back in a serviceable bun, but some wisps were still escaping. Her dark eyes were narrowed in concentration.

Max thought he’d never seen a more beautiful lady in his life.

He didn’t even realise how long he’d been sitting there when suddenly the arrow was pointing at _him_.

“Whoever you are, show yourself,” came the Princess’ voice, and Max sheepishly scrambled out from his hiding place.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he apologised, bowing low. “I did not mean to intrude.”

“Sir Aaron!” Gracie was surprised. “I was not expecting – well, it is only you, and that is well.”

“I apologise again for the intrusion,” Max continued. “I did not mean to startle you.”

“You are quite forgiven, Sir Aaron,” Gracie smiled. “But I must ask – why were you watching me?”

Max was quite sure that _because you are so beautiful_ was not an appropriate response, so he answered, “Because I was admiring your skill with the bow, my lady. Truly, I have seen none better.”

Gracie couldn’t stop the blush of delight on her face.

“Surely, Sir Aaron, as a knight, you yourself must be an archer of some talent?”

“No, my lady,” Max answered ruefully. “I always had more aptitude for the blade; and my studies with the bow were neglected. I am more useful hand-to-hand than I am from a distance.”

  
“Come, then,” Gracie smiled, holding out her bow. “A knight ought to be well-versed in all manner of fighting. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Max reluctantly took the bow from her and stood awkwardly as she fitted an arrow to it for him.

“Let’s just see how you shoot, first.”

Hesitantly, Max raised the bow, drew, and shot. His arrow fell short and wide of the target and he felt himself blushing with humiliation. A knight of Coloda, and he was proven inferior by a Princess!

But Gracie didn’t laugh, instead simply clucking her tongue. “Gracious, it’s been a while for you, hasn’t it? Here, widen your stance. You’ll never shoot accurately if you’re so unbalanced you’ll topple over.”

Max’s eyes widened as Gracie’s soft little hands starting pushing his arms around. “Lower, here. The elbow is lower, not high. Draw back to your mouth, touch the corner. There. Now breathe, gently, and release as you breathe out.”

She stepped back, and Max drew a deep breath, and loosed his arrow. This time it hit the target, though still wide of the centre.

“Better!” Gracie smiled brightly. “We’ll make an archer of you yet, Sir Aaron.”

“You are a truly marvellous teacher, Your Highness,” Max swept her a bow, trying to forget the burning feeling of the hands on his arms. “Any knight could learn from you.”

“I do wish it wasn’t only archery, though,” Gracie sighed. “None of the guards will spar with me anymore, and my dear brother is too busy to come down to the practice fields.”

“With a sword?” Max asked curiously.

“Yes. My swordsmanship is lacking, and needs work. My father does not think it very ladylike.”

“I fear I must be contrary to your father, Your Highness; I think there are fewer things more ladylike than a lady who can fight.”

Gracie turned and stared at him for a long moment. Their dark eyes met and locked, and in the gaze of the knight before her, Gracie saw –

\- _adoration? Admiration? Love? –_

\- she broke the gaze, blushing.

“I thankyou for the compliment, Sir Aaron,” she said, more to calm herself than anything; she sealed her quiver of practice arrows and was about to leave when a practice sword was suddenly placed on the bench before her.

Turning, she saw Sir Aaron standing in an easy stance, the practice sword loose in his grip, and grinning.

“You said you wanted to spar, Your Highness. If she will allow it, I offer myself as the Princess’ sparring partner.”

Gracie didn’t hesitate, didn’t even stop to think about how it might look, to be sparring alone and unchaperoned with a knight. She picked up the practice sword.

“Which technique do they teach in Coloda?” she asked as she retied her gauntlets.

“The USFSA technique,” Max answered, waiting.

“Good,” Gracie answered, “so do we. First kata, then?”

They went through the first practice pattern at an easy slow pace, then the second. By the fifth, Max was starting to move faster, more fluidly. By the tenth, Gracie was starting to sweat; she saw now why Max was so much better at hand to hand combat. Lithe and swift, and strong as an ox; yet she suspected he was holding back, reducing the power of his blows.

But Gracie was lighter than Max, and more nimble on her feet; what she lacked in size she made up for in speed, and they were fairly evenly matched as around and around each other they went. Both began to tire. A bead of sweat rolled down into Max’s eyes; he blinked, distracted, and Gracie pushed forward –

Max found himself pinned to the wall of the training ground, her practice sword at his throat, her free hand pinning his sword-hand against the wall.

“Yield?” she asked him.

Max grinned, steeling himself; and then in a movement quicker than sight, twisted, using his free hand to grab Gracie’s sword-hand and his sword-shoulder to push her away, before twisting it behind her (gently) and pushing her up against the wall, using his body to pin her there while the hand not holding her sword-arm pinned the other hand.

Gracie was too surprised to say anything.

“My lady, you fight well,” Max smiled. “But next time, I suggest not leaving the free hand of your opponent loose, especially if you are lighter than they; just because a hand is unarmed makes it no less dangerous.”

“Advice noted,” Gracie answered lightly.

They stood in silence for a long moment, and their breathing deepened. Gracie felt warmth flood her body as she took in the full feeling of Max pressed against her; his hard, muscular chest against her back, his hard, muscular thighs, one of them pressed slightly between her own to ensure she could not escape...

Max inhaled slightly, taking in the alluring scent of the Princess’ sweat, the faint smell of something herbal from her golden hair, her soft, curved body under his...he loosed his grip on her wrists, his fingers tracing lightly over the soft pale skin.

Subtly, almost subconsciously, Max shifted slightly, just enough for Gracie to turn around; there was a moment where they could do nothing but look at each other, before Max caught her lips in a kiss.

Gracie’s eyes widened for the briefest moment; then she was kissing back, wrapping her arms around Max’s neck to pull him closer. Max sighed against her mouth and pushed her back up against the wall, feeling her curves under his hands, the sweetness of her mouth...

They broke apart for air and then suddenly reeled away from each other in shock. What they had done was a breach of all propriety. And for Max, it was an act of treason. If anybody had seen, he could have been arrested.

They stood staring at each other for a moment; then suddenly Gracie whirled around and ran off.

*

That night, Max tossed and turned, unable to close his eyes; for every time he did, the vision of the Princess, beautiful and war-like, rose before his eyes, and he could smell again her sweet scent, and feel her soft mouth, and then his body would react and he would curse himself. How could he take advantage of her like that?

But elsewhere in the castle, Gracie lay awake, staring at the roof of her chamber, unable to get the kiss out of her mind. She tried to imagine kissing Prince Joshua like that, and failed. She simply couldn’t see him that way. And yet Sir Aaron...that kiss had aroused in her feelings she simply couldn’t explain.


	6. The Glade of Kings

“Where are you going today, Josh?” Max asked as he watched Josh dress.

“Prince Jason is taking me riding,” Josh answered eagerly. “He’s taking me somewhere special, somewhere steeped in tradition. I have to learn more.”

Max frowned slightly. He’d known Josh had a passion for this sort of learning, but if he wasn’t mistaken, Josh’s eagerness was for something other than the learning. He rather hoped he was, because nothing good could come out of anything else.

He laughed bitterly inside. Like he was any better! Against his will, the images and feel of the Princess had not left his dreams, and every time he saw her he longed to hold her again. And worse, she would blush and smile whenever he looked at her; he was sure she felt the same way.

Josh looked over at Max in concern. His friend hadn’t been the same for quite a number of weeks, now. Max was usually always cheerful, always positive, but he had been quiet and introspective. Josh was worried about him.

“Hey, Max, why don’t you take the day off? Take the Princess somewhere, perhaps escort her to town to see the fabrics, or to the practice fields. You look peaky; you’re not getting outside enough.”

Max wanted to groan. Of course Josh would suggest the one thing that was, right now, entirely inappropriate.

“You are right, Your Highness. Perhaps I shall take a walk.”

Josh patted Max on the shoulder as he swept out.

*

“Are you all right, Your Highness?”

Josh started and saw Prince Jason looking at him with concern in his face.

“Yes, yes, I am quite well, thankyou.”

“You looked...upset about something.”

Josh hesitated; but Jason had such a ready, open look about him that he decided to talk.

“It’s Sir Aaron. I’m worried about him; he hasn’t been himself lately.”

“How so?”

“He’s been so quiet and sad, and he hardly ever smiles anymore,” Joshua sighed.

“Well, that’s not true,” Jason answered. “I’ve seen him smile when you’re with my sister.”

“But when we’re alone...” Josh shook his head.

Jason was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Josh answered honestly. The two young men were riding side-by-side now, very close. “We grew up together. He’s only a few years older than me, and his father was a member of my father’s council, so we were always together. We trained together, and I was the one by his side during his knighthood vigil. He’s more than my very best friend. He’s more like my brother than my brother!”

Jason smiled at him.

“It must be wonderful to have someone like that in your life.”

“Yes,” Josh answered. “But you have your sister, and I’ve always wished I was as close with David as you are with Gracie.”

Jason smiled. “Well, you have Sir Aaron. And when you marry my sister, you will have her...and me.”

“And you?” Josh asked lightly; that treacherous fluttering in his heart had started up again.

“Of course,” Jason smiled. “We’re a package deal.”

Josh couldn’t speak as Jason smiled up at him, his brown eyes sparkling. A package deal? Well, Josh would love that.

He quickly snapped himself out of it. _No! You can’t think like that_!

“Ah, here we are,” Jason’s voice broke into Josh’s thoughts.

Josh looked up to see Jason dismounting. “We have to go on foot from here,” Jason explained.

Josh followed him silently, watching the way the sun played over Jason’s golden hair, and silently chastising himself. After a short walk, they emerged into a beautiful hollow, warm in the mid-day sun, and ringed with stones, some weathered and ancient, some newer.

“What is this place?” Josh asked, awed.

“The Glade of Kings,” Jason answered. “Our most sacred place. The name of every King of Illona is marked here, and when they die, their ashes are interred here.”

Joshua looked around, admiring the names graven on the stones. These were the names he had been reading about in the books in the library.

He turned to find Jason kneeling in front of a newer stone. As he approached, he saw the name graven on it was Jason’s father’s; next to it, there was a very new stone, unmarked. Jason’s fingers were resting lightly on it.

“To whom does this stone belong?” Josh asked quietly.

Jason looked up at him, his face unfathomable.

“Mine,” he said tonelessly. “When I am King, my name will be carved here.”

He stood and walked away.

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic.”

Jason shook his head.

“I’d rather not be King. Gracie would make a much better Queen than I would a King. But I must be King, and so I shall be.”

“Why should you not like to be King?” Josh asked curiously as they began to walk away from the hollow.

“Pressure,” Jason sighed. “There’s so much pressure on me to be perfect, to do everything right.”

“But you are perfect,” Josh replied honestly.

Jason laughed and shook his head. “No, I’m not. I’m everything but.”

“But look at you,” Josh was confused. “You’re smart, witty, with a smooth tongue and a flair for talking to diplomats, and you’re beautiful...”

Josh came to a sudden halt, and Jason whirled around to face him, the colour high on his cheeks.

“You really think that?” he asked shyly, a delighted smile spreading over his face.

Josh’s heart took off, galloping at full speed. The hope in Jason’s eyes was almost painful...could it be that he really felt the same way as Josh?

“Yes,” Josh answered, barely able to think when Jason was looking at him like that. “Yes, I do.”

Jason’s smile grew very bright, and he stepped closer, reaching out to touch Josh’s face almost reverently. Time seemed to stand still; the very forest around them seemed to be holding its breath.

And in that moment of absolute silence, their lips met.

There was a briefest space of time when they kissed, and their hearts beat in time, before suddenly Jason pulled away and turned away.

Josh blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“This is why I’m not perfect,” Jason said thickly. “This is why I shouldn’t be King.”

And Josh understood, understood with perfect clarity why, but he did not trust himself to speak as they walked back to where they left the horses.

The King must have an heir.

Joshua could not give Jason an heir.

He focused on the reins in his hands and tried not to look at Jason, certain that if he did, he would fall apart.


	7. Mosca

“Plans are proceeding nicely, my lady,” General Yagudin bowed. “All is going as we had hoped.”

“And the situation in Illona?”

“Much the same,” Yagudin answered. “The Princess’ wedding continues to be delayed. The Prince remains single. Many suspicious things keep occurring – and now the King and Queen begin to wish for their son to be wed as well.”

“Perfect. Find my son and daughter.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Queen Tarasova settled back in her throne and grinned to herself. Finally, after eighteen years of planning, the time was drawing near when they would bear fruit.

“You sent for us, mother?”

Tarasova felt nothing but delight as her son and daughter walked towards her. At eighteen, Prince Maxim was tall, charming, and strong; at seventeen, Princess Adelina was beautiful, fiery, and clever. She stroked the two jewelled rings on her fingers. And they were the perfect pawns in her political game.

Tarasova had long ago realised that she was growing too old to set herself up as empress of a vast land. But who better to take over her dream than children? Unmarried and unable to bear her own, she had sent her secret spies to steal a son and a daughter from Ruslan. She had adopted Maxim, and then Adelina, and raised them as her own.

“It is time to begin our move, my darlings. Soon, very soon, you shall sit upon the thrones of empires so vast, we can only begin to imagine them.”

“So we are to return to war at last?” Prince Maxim asked, his face bright, his fingers lingering on his sword hilt.

“No, my son. Now is the time for stealth. We shall first seize Illona.”

“How can we, mother?” Princess Adelina asked.

Tarasova rose from her throne and stepped down to them, reaching out to stroke Adelina’s face.

“You were not made so beautiful for nothing, my dear. We shall seize Illona, and then Coloda, and we shall take the kingdom that is rightfully ours! And that will only be the beginning!”

Maxim drew his sword. “Yes!” he hissed, his eyes brighter than ever. “Yes!”

“Put that away, my son. No, this begins with smiles and laughs, not swords. Illona shall be ours, and it will be Adelina’s beauty that will ensure that.”

“Mother?”

“Pack your bags, my dears. You’re going on a journey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short filler chapter. Just setting a few scenes.
> 
> The fact that Prince Artur is now allied with Queen Tarasova in real life has thrown me off greatly.


	8. Forbidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicating this chapter to my two most loyal readers, Moonlark and Legolaslover1. Thanks always for your kudos and comments, they always make my day.

Gracie lay in bed, tossing and turning, trying to get to sleep. Her parents were urging her to set a date for her wedding, and her day had been spent with the royal dressmaker, having fittings and measurements while her wedding gown was designed.

Yet just today, she and Sir Aaron had stolen a moment in the cottage that housed the practice weapons, and she could still feel his lips on hers, his hands at her waist – her cheeks burned as she thought about the impropriety of it all, yet as every day went by she found herself seeking him out more and more.

She felt so hideously guilty, especially when Prince Joshua was all kindness to her, but she simply could not feel the same way about him she felt about Sir Aaron.

_Max..._

She smiled to herself as she remembered him telling her to call him that, as she remembered breathing his name against his ear...yes, Max was the name that rolled off her tongue. And her name had sounded so lovely on his lips.

Suddenly her bed dipped, and a pair of arms encircled her waist; and she felt a familiar face bury itself in her neck.

“Big brother?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh Gracie, I am so sorry, I have done something terrible,” Jason murmured back, his voice quavering.

Gracie turned to hug him, and they snuggled together the way they always had as children.

“What is it, Jase? It can’t be something terribly awful.”

“But it is, and I have hurt you by doing it.”

Gracie stroked his hair and waited.

“I...I’ve fallen in love,” he choked, “with your Prince Joshua.”

Gracie was shocked. She had known, for many years, that her brother was attracted only to men – but to Prince Joshua? But then she thought about it, and thought that it wasn’t strange at all. Joshua was a tall, handsome, and good young man, exactly the sort she would have wanted for her brother.

“And what does he feel about you, brother?” she asked cautiously, thinking back over the last few months; the number of rides Jason and Joshua had been on, the hours spent in the library with Jason ostensibly teaching Joshua the traditions of Illinois...was it possible?

“He...he loves me too,” Jason coughed. “He said so. We have – met in secret, many times...and even...even kissed. Oh sister, I am so sorry for stealing your fiancée.”

Gracie hugged him.

“Oh Jase...to own the truth, you are not the only one with feelings that are wrong,” she said sadly.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you not noticed that I have spent so much time with Sir Aaron?”

Jason gasped.

“I love him, Jase. I can’t help it. I know I’m supposed to be loving Prince Joshua but I just cannot. Sir Aaron holds all of my affections. He is...oh Jason, he is _such_ a man.”

“Oh Gracie...”

They held each other in silence.

“We must talk openly about this,” Jason said bracingly after a while. “We must sit down with Sir Aaron and Prince Joshua tomorrow and talk about this, and come up with a solution.”

“Yes,” Gracie murmured. “Oh Jase, do you think there’s a way?”

“There must be, Gracie. There must be.”

*

“I won’t have it,” Joshua announced, dropping himself on Max’s bed.

“Ouch!” Max grizzled as he woke. “Have what?”

“You’re peaky, unhappy, and hiding things. Not like you at all.”

Max groaned and rolled over.

“Says you, who has been frowning and moping for the last few months!” Max growled.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then suddenly Joshua heaved a great sob.

“Josh?” Max sat up, and lit the lamp next to his bed. “Josh, what’s wrong?”

“Oh gods above Max, why was I cursed to feel this way?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Josh?” Max asked hesitantly. “Do you mean to say that...that there’s a man...?”

“The Prince,” Josh gulped. “Oh Max, I can’t help it, I know it’s not supposed to happen, but...”

“Shh. You can’t help it.”

“I know I’m a terrible person, I should be trying to love Princess Gracie, but her brother...we keep meeting and...I’m such an awful person, we’ve even kissed...”

“It doesn’t make you a terrible person,” Max soothed. “It makes you human.” He laughed bitterly. “Besides, you’re not the only one in love with someone you shouldn’t be.”

Josh looked at him with wide eyes.

“Your Princess and I...we haven’t exactly been behaving correctly either,” Max sighed. “All those hours on the practice field...and so very little practice.”

“Oh Max!”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” Max sighed. “Of course, we have not gone beyond kisses. But...I cannot pretend that I would happy to see her marry you.”

“I don’t know what to do either,” Josh whispered. “But I have to tell her. It’s not fair to pretend.”

“No, it’s not.”

There came a soft knock on the door. Max quickly threw on his robe and opened it as Josh opened the curtains, revealing the rising sun.

“Sir, a message from my mistress,” a maid curtseyed, holding out a note. Max took it and closed the door.

“It’s from the Princess.”

“What does it say?”

“She begs us to meet her and her brother in their sitting room at our earliest convenience,” Max frowned.

“Well then, we must go,” Josh said firmly. He disappeared into his dressing room. “Where did I put my blue tunic?”

In spite of everything, Max laughed.

*

Max tapped on the door, simply because Josh was too nervous to do it. To their surprise, it was opened by Jason himself almost straight away.

“Come in,” Jason said softly. He shut the door behind them. There were no servants, no other chaperones in sight; just Gracie, seated on a small sofa by the fire, elegant in a gown of red.

Jason turned to face them; and then his serious expression softened into a smile as he looked at Josh.

“I think we all know why we’re here,” he said. “So let’s just reposition ourselves to where we feel we need to be.”

There was a moment’s pause; then Max strode over to sit beside Gracie on her sofa, and Josh crossed to stand next to Jason.

Jason allowed himself to smile openly at Josh and take his hand.

“So the question is, what do we do?”

There was a long silence.

Then Max spoke. “Well, maybe you and Joshua could...”

“I am the Prince,” Jason answered, and the sorrow in his eyes when he looked Joshua was great. “I must have heirs of my own.”

Josh looked at Jason, and then back at the sofa, where Max sat with Gracie, and an idea sparked in his mind.

“How do you reckon the royal line of Illona? Through sons only, or daughters too?”

“Through both,” Jason answered. “But I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“Is there any law precluding Gracie’s children being your heirs?”

There was dead silence. Gracie’s and Jason’s jaws both dropped.

“If Gracie’s children could be your heirs, the problems would be over,” Josh smiled. “Then we could marry, and Max and Gracie could marry, and everything would be perfect happiness.”

Jason’s grip tightened on Josh’s arm.

“I don’t...I don’t know if that’s ever happened...” he said anxiously. “I’ll have to check...”

“Is...is there any rule that says only a Prince can marry the Princess?” Max asked quietly. “I’m not really of noble blood. My family are knights made, not knights born.”

“But you are a knight,” Gracie pointed out. “And not just any knight, the personal guard of the Prince of Coloda! That must be enough for father.”

Max smiled at her.

“I’ll check,” Jason said firmly. “Then, as soon as I know, we will talk to father.”


	9. A Tenuous Peace

“Come, brother,” Evgeni smiled. “I know you have spent so long on the front, but we must not allow you to forget you are a Prince.”

Artur pulled a face at his brother as he tugged uncomfortably at the stiff formal tunic. “You know I have always hated balls, brother. Why must I attend? No-one is after me, they’ll all be paying attention to you.”

“Nonsense,” Evgeni smiled brusquely. “Besides, we must celebrate the signing of the trade agreement with Volga, and it is their Princess’ eighteenth birthday today, so it is a fine thing to have a ball.”

Evgeni smirked and pretended not to notice the way Artur’s cheeks flushed up at the mention of the Princess.

“And it simply would not look well if you did not attend. Besides, if we really are going to have peace, then we need to change you back from a soldier to a diplomat.”

Artur rolled his eyes and followed Evgeni as they made their way down the corridor towards the ballroom, where they were met by Yana just outside the huge double doors, absolutely radiant in a gown of lavender.

Artur hung back and smiled to himself as he watched his brother kiss his queen on the nose and offer her his arm, ready for their presentation to the ball. Somehow, his stately, diplomatic brother had managed to marry for love and give Rusal a Queen of noble birth as well.

But what of himself? What lady would marry the second-born son, the Prince who would never be King?

The announcement of his name in a loud voice shook him from his melancholy thoughts, and he fixed a smile in place as he followed Evgeni and Yana into the ballroom.

“Oh,” the chamberlain said, just before he went past. “This letter arrived for you also, Your Highness.”

Artur smiled at him and took it. “Thankyou.” He tucked it into his tunic and quickly made his way to the front of the room to stand next to his brother.

The King of Volga approached. Volga was Rusal’s closest partner in trade, and the two countries were allies going back many years.

“Your Majesties, Your Highness,” the King bowed. “It gives me great pleasure to introduce my daughter, Princess Elizaveta.”

Artur struggled to keep his jaw from dropping at the beautiful young woman who came forward to curtsey to them. The last time he had seen Princess Elizaveta, she had been very pretty and had made his heart thump; but now she was absolutely beautiful, and his heart was out of control.

Evgeni was bowing in return and making her a gracious welcome, and that jolted Artur enough to remember that _Princes do not stare_ and he also bowed.

Then Evgeni’s words seeped into his brain.

“My dear Princess, I would offer you a birthday dance, but alas, my injuries prevent it. However, my younger brother is a very graceful dancer, and I am certain he would be delighted to partner you tonight.”

Princess Elizaveta smiled at Artur, and any refusal that might have been in his mind melted away.

The orchestra struck up a waltz, and Artur offered her his hand, leading her out onto the floor. Her hand was small and delicate in his, but he was surprised at the strength he felt underneath it; and yet it was so light when the other settled on his shoulder.

Artur forced himself to pay attention to the dance; he had been a soldier so long that he was a little rusty. He winced as his hand met Elizaveta’s waist; his hands felt clumsy and heavy, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Artur stepped briefly on the hem of her gown; luckily his cat-like reflexes pulled his foot back almost instantly, so that no harm came of it. He sternly ordered his mind to focus, then, counting steps and feeling music and _not looking at those beautiful blue eyes..._

Evgeni and Yana looked at each other knowingly and grinned; Evgeni met the eye of the King and exchanged winks with him. By hook or by crook, Evgeni intended to see Artur married before long.

*

Artur finally got a moment to sit in his chair when another dignitary asked the Princess to dance. As he sat (trying to _sit regally_ and _not flop_ ), he felt the letter move in his tunic, and pulled it out.

“What have you there, little brother?”

“A letter, my lord,” Artur answered, self-conscious of etiquette in a public setting.

“From whom?”

Artur turned it over and frowned, not recognising the seal or the location; then he recognised the handwriting and smiled.

“Why, my friend Prince Joshua of Coloda. I haven’t heard from him in a while.” Artur paused. “May I, Your Majesty?”

“Of course. Lord knows I read enough letters at the dinner table.”

Artur opened the letter carefully and settled in his chair. He and Joshua had met some summers ago at a training school in Coloda. Artur had gone to several different schools to learn different techniques, but he’d never made friends as easily as he had bonded with Prince Joshua. As the second-born sons of their respective nations, they had a lot in common.

Evgeni watched as Artur’s face changed from joy, to surprise, to a frown, his brows knitted together as he read further. Then he folded the letter back up, looking thoughtful.

“Not ill news, I hope, brother.”

“No, just – surprising. Joshua is to be married.”

“Oh, what lovely news!” Yana smiled.

“It’s an arranged marriage,” Artur answered. “The Princess of Illona.”

“A very beautiful lady, so I hear,” Evgeni nodded. “A good match for him. But you do not think so?”

“Oh, I do not know. He is just worried about the usual things,” Artur smiled. “You know, how to be a husband and so forth.”

“Ah, I see. He is your age, is he not?”

“Younger by about a year,” Artur corrected. “So I can see why he is worried. Perhaps I will go and visit him soon, give him some support.”

“That could well be delightful, and if you should arrive at a time that is prudent, I would give my full blessing for you to be Rusal’s representative at the wedding. It will look very well for us.”

“Yes, brother,” Artur smiled, but his brain was whirring. The tone of Joshua’s letter had not been happy, and Artur guessed there was a deeper concern than just whether or not he could make the Princess happy.

Suddenly Artur felt old. Joshua had always seemed so much younger than him, and now he was to be married, but Artur wasn’t even betrothed.

Artur sighed. Who would marry a second son? Why would any kingdom pledge a daughter to the forgotten Prince of Rusal? What lady would love a war-worn soldier, fatigued already at only twenty years of age?

Artur watched the beautiful Princess dance, and never realised that her eyes were on him as often as his on her.


	10. Confrontation

Jason was shaking as he knocked on his father’s study door. This was it. Now or never.

He took a deep breath as his father’s voice called him to enter. His mother was here, as he had requested.

Joshua, Max and Gracie had all wanted to come with him for this important discussion. But Jason had refused. It was his duty as the heir, he had said, to take on this task and do it alone.

Quickly he ran over the information in his head, the dates, the names, ordering it carefully so that it sounded careful and reasonable. He had to persuade his father that their idea was right. That their idea was best for the kingdom.

He closed the door behind him and bobbed a short bow to his father.

“You asked to see us, Jason?”

“Yes. There is a serious matter I would discuss with you.” Jason seated himself in the chair opposite the desk.

“Oh?” the King raised his eyebrows and glanced at the Queen.

“Yes. I...I am not certain...that Gracie’s marriage is a good idea.”

The King sighed. “Jason, we’ve been through this, I’m not having this argument again. You both knew growing up that an arranged marriage was your duty. If she is not reconciled to this by now...well. I had hoped that Prince Joshua’s handsome face might do the trick.”

“But she does not love him, father. He is a good man, and he will look after her, and they are fond of each other. But there is no love there.”

“These things must be given time to grow.”

Jason steeled himself, and forced out the words.

“Father, she is in love with another – and another, if you will listen, who is no less worthy of being her husband.”

Now Jason had both his parents’ full attention.

“Who is this other?” The King’s tone was stern.

“Sir Aaron, the Prince’s bodyguard,” Jason answered. “It was never her intention, I assure you, nor his, but nevertheless they have found themselves in love. He is a good, kind man, and he treats Gracie as though she is the centre of his universe. He is a knight, of good standing and good breeding, and he would certainly not be an unworthy partner for her. Moreover, the Prince Joshua assures me that neither he nor his family would in any way be offended if that match were forwarded at the expense of his own.”

There. He’d said that first piece. Everything else now depended on his parents’ reaction. He looked steadily at both of them. His mother, he could see, was wavering; his father was frowning, which was probably not a good sign.

“Sir Aaron,” the King said. “Is he a knight born, or a knight made?”

Jason tried not to flinch. He knew that his answer would be met with a negative reaction.

“He is a knight made, father, as was his father before him, but like his father, is the most skilled knight in Coloda, so I am told, and he and his father are close in the councils of the royal family there.”

“He is not of noble blood?”

“Father, what does it matter?” Jason asked. “I have known several knights born who were of lesser skill and chivalry than knights made. Blood does not make a person.”

“You are desperate for this match, to an unworthy man, to go ahead,” the King observed. “Not just out of concern for your sister, I think.”

Jason took another deep breath and folded his hands together to stop their shaking. This was it. If he started down this path, there was no turning back, and the whole truth would come out.

“I wish for her to be happy,” he answered. “Sir Aaron will make a fine father to her children, who will be my heirs.”

A pin could have dropped in the study, and it would have sounded like the crashing of a thousand swords.

“What is this talk?” the King asked, in a deathly quiet tone.

“Father, I wish to marry Prince Joshua,” Jason said. His voice strengthened as he thought of Josh. “I have no desire to wed a woman and produce heirs. Let Gracie’s child be my heir. Over a hundred years ago it was often so in this land. Why cannot it be so again?”

The Queen’s eyes were wide, darting back and forth between her son and her husband. What was he going to say? Who was going to prevail? She was inclined to agree with her son, but her husband’s arguments for Gracie wedding a Prince or at least a knight of noble birth were strong.

“You wish to marry Prince Joshua.”

“Yes.”

“And have an unworthy man marry your sister, and father your heirs.”

“Yes.”

There was a moment’s pause, then:

“Absolutely not.”

Jason tried not to be too crushed. “Father...”

“I will brook no argument on this matter. Gracie is to wed Prince Joshua. And I have long thought it was high time to find you a bride. Now I see we must hurry, to get such foolish notions out of your head.”

“Father...”

“If needs be, I will ensure that the two of you are housed separately, that I may know there are no shenanigans going on in this castle. Your sister will get whatever childish notions of puppy love she has in her head out of it, and you will stop thinking such insane notions yourself. You will provide your own heirs. That is the end of this discussion, Jason.”

“Father...”

The King turned his back.

“I have said that is the end of this discussion, Jason. You are dismissed. I do not require your presence further.”

Jason could only stare at his father’s back for a long moment. Then he bowed stiffly and said coldly, “As you wish, father.” He walked steadily out of the room.

As soon as the door was closed, he broke into a run, blindly and as fast as he could go.

None of the servants should have to see their Prince cry.

*

All three heads turned hopefully as Jason came into the chamber – only to freeze as they saw Jason crying.

“Jase?” Gracie asked softly.

“He says,” Jason sniffed, “that you are to marry Prince Joshua, instead of an _unworthy man_ , and I am to get these _foolish notions_ out of my head while they find me a Princess to marry.”

There was a dead silence in the room. Max bowed his head. Gracie flung her arms around her brother and pulled him close, sobbing silently into his shoulder. Josh seemed frozen for a moment, the world turned to dull colours.

He looked at them standing together, and the irony of it struck him; in love with the brother, engaged to the sister.

“Gracie,” he said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I promise that I will be the best husband I can possibly be to you.”

Gracie smiled up at him.

“And I promise that I will not notice when so many nights you slip away to my brother’s bedchamber rather than my own.”

All three of them turned to look at Max.

“And surely, no-one will think it strange that my bodyguard and best friend stays with me here,” Josh said warmly. “And I shall see to it that my wife does not sleep alone those nights I am gone.”

Max smiled wanly.

“No, Joshua. If this goes forward, then I shall beg leave from your service. I could not stay.”

“Max?” Gracie’s eyes were on him.

“I could not stay, knowing that my love was even further beyond my reach. I would go back to the regular army, and seek my death honourably in battle.”

Josh blanched. “That won’t be necessary.”

Max’s smile was even more wan.

“I sincerely hope not.”

*

The King was pacing his study, muttering to himself furiously, wondering what on earth had possessed both of his children to act in such a manner. Gracie – to imagine she was in love with a low-born knight! Jason – to question his order and decision, to spout such foolish nonsense! Oh sure, the King knew that some men married other men – it was not forbidden in his kingdom – but the heir to the throne was not just some man!

The knock on his door jolted him most unpleasantly from his thoughts.

“Enter!” he snapped harshly.

It was Lady Polina, one of his messengers. He did not approve of female knights, but he had found some of them to his use as swift, secret messengers and spies, and employed several; Lady Polina was one of the best.

“Your Majesty, this was just delivered.”

“Thankyou.”

She bobbed a curtsey and left in a hurry, wondering what on earth had got into the King; his face had been like thunder!

The King turned the letter over and was surprised. The seal was that of Mosca; they had never truly corresponded with Mosca before, but he knew all the royal seals. He broke it and opened the letter.

_To His Majesty the Esteemed King of Illona, greetings!_

_Allow me to introduce myself. I am His Royal Highness Crown Prince Maxim Kovtun of Mosca, the son of Queen Tatiana. I write to you in friendship, and perhaps more._

_My sister, Princess Adelina, has reached the age where the young women of our kingdom are accustomed to marry, and my mother and I are searching far and wide for suitable matches for her._

_I have heard of the famed beauty of your son, Prince Jason, and have been hoping that my sister and I might intrude upon your court and investigate the possibility of a match. We would arrive in a week’s time, and if the match did not look promising, would intrude upon your hospitality no longer than a fortnight._

_I await your reply at the earliest convenience._

_With sincere regards,_

_HRH Prince Maxim_

The King read the letter again, slowly. Could it be true? It seemed insane, that just at the time when he was seeking an expedient marriage for his son, there was a Princess seeking a husband, a Princess from a country that, while not large, was reasonably wealthy and prosperous, even if they had been at war for some years. (The name of the country they were at war with eluded the King for a moment.) But even that had simmered and cooled.

“My dear? What is it?”

The King turned to his wife and grinned, sitting down to write an immediate reply.

“My dear, I have found our Jason a wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil little chuckle*
> 
> Oh, you didn't think it would be that easy, did you?


	11. Jason and Adelina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my favourite chapter and still not entirely happy with it.

“Guests?” Josh sighed as Lukas read the note aloud. “I don’t really want to see any guests.”

“You must go,” Max said absently, not even looking up from his seat on the balcony where he was sharpening and oiling his sword. “It would not look well if you didn’t.”

Josh sighed. “I know. I just – oh Max, our plan was so reasonable!”

Max sighed. “It depended on the King agreeing to allow his daughter to marry a commoner. It was optimistic at best.”

“You’re not a commoner.”

“Must we have this argument again?”

“I agree with Josh,” Lukas interjected as he emerged from the dressing room. “But I must interrupt. Josh, _what on earth happened in there_?”

Josh looked sheepish. Max couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I leave you two alone for just three months and you can’t even look after your clothes for that long!” Lukas scolded. “There’s not a piece of clothing in there that hasn’t been mistreated in some way.”

Max snorted with laughter. “I told you you’d miss him.”

“Don’t even get me started on the state of your chamber,” Lukas rounded on Max. “It’s a disgrace!”

Max had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“Honestly, you two,” Lukas clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “You’d lose your own heads if they weren’t attached. Now, let me see you.”

Josh stood up and turned slowly.

“Hmm. Not as Princely as I would like for guests, but it’ll do given I have no time to prepare you. And you!” He pointed at Max.

Max turned slowly. Lukas’ nose crinkled.

“Hmph. Well, the clothes are suitable. But do not think the state of your hair went unnoticed by me, Max. The first thing I shall do when you get back is cut it! Now both of you, downstairs, before you’re late. Thank goodness I’ll get some time to myself to clear up this mess!”

Josh and Max left the room sheepishly, without another word.

If Josh considered Max his brother, then Lukas was like his cousin – his best friend. As children, the trio had made so much mischief in the castle the servants were sure to groan at the sight of them. The son of the castle’s chief of staff, Lukas had lofty ambitions. He planned on attending the Coloda University some day and becoming a great doctor. But until then, he worked to earn his keep in the castle, unknowing of Josh’s machinations behind the scenes to get his friend into the University in spite of his common birth.

*

They met Gracie and Jason just outside the formal audience chamber. For a moment, they were all silent, just looking at each other, wishing things were different. But then the King and Queen arrived, and Josh offered his arm to Gracie, while Max fell to the back of the group.

After eyeing them all suspiciously, the King led them into the chamber, and the party arranged themselves formally on the dais; the King and Queen in the centre, Jason at the King’s right hand, and Joshua and Gracie on the Queen’s left; Max hovered behind the dais.

The chamberlain announced loudly, “Presenting, His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Maxim of Mosca, and his sister, Her Royal Highness Princess Adelina of Mosca!”

For some reason, Joshua felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise as the young pair entered the room. This seemed like a strange reaction to him; they were both well-presented, fair of face (though Maxim was far less a beauty than his sister), richly clad. And yet something about the oddly vacant look behind Maxim’s eyes just gave Joshua the creeps.

He could feel Max moving closer, and knew Max had felt it too; Gracie’s hand tightened on his arm.

“Your Majesties,” Prince Maxim bowed deeply; his sister swept a deep curtsey. “I thank you for showing us honour in your court.”

“You are most welcome here, Prince Maxim,” the King answered warmly. “Allow me to make the introductions.”

Maxim and Adelina were all that was charming and polite as they were introduced, though Joshua felt like he was being analysed by the Prince’s gaze. But the feeling vanished after a moment, and that was when he realised that both of them had all their attention fixed on Jason.

A sick, horrible feeling clenched in his stomach, and suddenly he knew what was about to happen.

He barely heard the rest of the formalities, or the pleasantries the King and Prince Maxim exchanged, or the plans for a grand state dinner that night. As the group dispersed, Gracie whispered in his ear, “What’s wrong?”

But he couldn’t reply, not when the King was waiting for them all to separate. He just squeezed her hand as he followed Max dumbly down the hallway.

*

Jason was braiding Gracie’s hair in preparation for dinner when the door opened and their father walked in.

“Really, Jason? You are a Prince, you ought not to be braiding your sister’s hair. She has a maid for that purpose.”

“As I have told you countless times before, father, it calms me,” Jason answered tonelessly, not looking up from his work.

“Well, you may have need of it. A man in your situation is often nervous.”

Now the King had Jason’s full attention.

“What situation?”

“You’d best get used to braiding a different colour hair,” the King answered triumphantly. “Tonight at the dinner I shall announce your betrothal to Princess Adelina.”

Jason felt all the colour draining from his face.

“What?”

“As I have said before,” the King continued, “It is high time you were married, if only to get these foolish notions out of your head. Princess Adelina is of a good family. She will make you a fine bride.”

“Father, I...”

“Now don’t you worry,” the King said warmly. “It’s quite normal for all young men to be a little bit afraid of marriage. After all, it’s a big change in your life, to have a wife, and start a family. And you know, the sooner you father an heir, the better, really.”

Something snapped in Jason’s brain.

“Father, _no_.”

The King raised an eyebrow.

“I will _not_ marry the Princess Adelina. I do not intend to marry a woman at all! Father, please listen to me. If you forced me to marry a woman, not only would I be miserable all my life, but so would she.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jason. You are a good and wonderful young man, she will be very happy with you. And she seems nice. You aren’t even giving her a chance.”

“There’s no chance to be given! I _cannot_ love her! You will allow it in other areas of your kingdom, why can’t you recognise it in your own son? I do not want a woman, father!”

“You are not some commoner or even courtier to indulge in these whims! You are a Prince, and one day you will be King! You must always place what is best for the kingdom ahead of your own wants and desires!”

“Is a miserable King and a childless Queen what’s best for the kingdom?”

“You do not even intend to try?”

“I would try, and I would fail, over and over again, until eventually I would be forced to adopt Gracie’s children as my heirs, and then we would be in exactly the place we wanted to be, except miserable! Joshua and Gracie would have lived a marriage without love, and Max would be dead somewhere, all because you are too stubborn and hard-headed and arrogant to see beyond your own judgemental world!”

Silence fell in the chamber. Gracie was sitting to one side, tears sliding silently down her face.

Then the King said coldly, “You will marry Princess Adelina at the end of next week. I will brook no argument from you. If I must have you restrained to your rooms until that time, I shall do so without hesitation. The same applies to you, Gracie.” He swept out of the room without another word.

*

Of course, to the courtiers who were gathered for the state dinner that evening, nothing appeared wrong. The Prince and Princess were pale, stiff, upright as they had always been; the King regal and proud in his bearing. And, everyone agreed, what a fine collection they made, now with the Princess Adelina engaged to their Prince Jason.

Adelina, of course, was sat by Jason during the dinner; and Jason had to admit she was very beautiful, and her voice was like a soothing melody. But she didn’t make his heart stir the way Joshua did; and try as he might, he could not feel even the remotest spark of attraction to her, though her gown was well-cut to show off her fine figure.

He did his best to smile at her. After all, it had been made abundantly clear to him that she was to be his bride, and right now, Jason couldn’t see any way to change his fate.


	12. Conflict

The next few days were unbearable torture for all the young people in the castle. And the King saw to it that those who wanted to be together were never left alone. Jason and Joshua barely spoke more than two words to each other outside of company during that time, and as for Max and Gracie, they could barely look at each other.

Jason didn’t want to push his father any further. The King had made his stance clear, and the threat of locking them in their rooms was very real. He was forced to spend all his free time with Adelina, who seemed nice enough...but there was something in her expression on occasion that gave him chills.

Of course, the King could not forbid his children from seeing each other, and Gracie and Jason still spent much of every night together. But neither could now see a way out of the fate ordained for them.

Each night, they sat in the parlour as a group, the King and Queen watching to make sure the two young couples bonded. Joshua and Gracie often sat at chess; Jason struggled to make small talk with Adelina. He was immensely jealous of his sister. At least she had a good chance of happiness in her marriage. He had every chance of utter misery.

“My lord?”

All heads turned at the chamberlain’s entrance.

“A royal guest to see you. He makes his apology for arriving so late.”

Everyone quickly stood.

“Send him in,” the King nodded. There had been many such guests that week; one more was not unusual, though the lateness of his arrival was.

“Your Majesty, His Royal Highness Prince Artur of Rusal.”

No-one noticed the way Maxim and Adelina both stiffened at the mention of his name. But everyone noticed the bright smile that spread over Joshua’s face, the first genuine smile in several days.

Artur walked in sedately, focusing on shortening his soldier’s stride to the more rhythmic cadence of a courtly walk. He bowed to the King politely.

“I apologise once more, Your Majesty, for my late arrival; unfortunately, my horse threw a shoe just after I crossed your border, and I had to seek a farrier for immediate attention.”

“Indeed, you are quite forgiven, Your Highness. Did your horse suffer injury?”

“No, thankfully; I saw the shoe come loose and was able to stop him before he hurt himself.”

“I must admit, your presence is unexpected. We had not yet sent any invitation to Rusal.”

“Perhaps not formally,” Artur smiled. “But I came to see my dear friend, Prince Joshua, and I knew he was staying here. Soon to wed your daughter, I believe.”

“Of course, allow me to make the introductions.”

Artur smiled slyly at Joshua as he was introduced; why, the Princess he was betrothed to was an elegant, beautiful lady, almost enough to catch Artur’s own eye. But the Prince – he was a fine young man too, and Artur began to have a sneaking suspicion of the problem.

“...and my son’s betrothed, Princess Adelina of Mosca, and her brother, Prince Maxim.”

Artur froze mid-bow and rose stiffly without going all the way down. He found himself face to face with the two young Moscavites, and ice ran down his spine.

Suddenly aware that everyone was watching, Artur managed to say, “Prince Maxim. I see you are well.”

“Yes, I am well. I see you look better than when I saw you last, Prince Artur.”

Artur gritted his teeth.

Joshua watched the interplay in confusion – and then sudden clarity struck him so hard he nearly gasped. _Now_ he knew where he’d heard of Mosca before!

*

Joshua was seated on his bed with Max and Lukas when a soft tap came at his door.

“It’s Prince Artur, Josh.” Lukas informed them. “Shall I let him in?”

“Please.”

Artur came in, concern in his face, now changed out of his travelling clothes. He plonked himself in a most inelegant fashion on the bed and prodded Joshua’s chest.

“Out with it.”

“I’m in love with Jason and Max is in love with Gracie,” Josh answered with a simplicity that left his two friends staring.

“I knew it,” Artur nodded. “I knew something didn’t feel right about your letter. So what is to be done?”

Josh explained the story up until then, how they’d been side-stepping the truth, the secret meet-ups, then finally, telling each other the truth. And then the heartbreak of the confrontation with the King, the King’s edict, and Jason’s engagement to Adelina.

At the mention of Adelina, Artur’s face went dark.

“I did not know Illona was close to Mosca politically.”

“They’re not really, as far as I know. Their timing was simply too good – the King was still angry with us all and determined to find Jason a wife, and suddenly here was Princess Adelina, pretty and sweet and well-bred, and the opportunity was just too good for him to miss.”

“Somehow, I do not think their arrival coinciding with the King’s anger was an accident,” Artur muttered. “Tarasova has spies everywhere.”

“Artur?” Max asked tentatively. “Can I ask – what was the meaning behind what you said to Maxim when you arrived tonight?”

Artur growled and lifted his hair to reveal the shining pink scar that started behind his ear and ran down his neck, disappearing into his shirt.

“He gave that to me, along with many others.”

Josh’s eyes widened.

“We have met in combat before,” Artur admitted. “He is...very strong.”

“You’re in danger here,” Lukas interrupted. “I saw the look in Maxim’s eyes tonight as you all left the chamber. He had murder in his glare as he looked at you. Sir, I do not think you should sleep alone.”

Artur looked Lukas up and down.

“Forgive me, Lukas, but you are not exactly my type.”

There was silence a moment before they all burst out laughing; the line had been delivered so deadpan in Artur’s dull Rusalian accent that the joke had caught them all by surprise.

“Do not fear, gentlemen. I will ensure that all of my doors are well barricaded tonight. And I always sleep with a coat of mail on in unfamiliar territory, not to mention a sword by my side.” Artur parted the collar of his shirt to show the fine links of steel woven together.

“Max will go with you back to your chamber,” Josh said decisively. “I’m worried about you, Artur.”

Artur gave him a ghostly smile.

“Well, it’s nice to know someone is.”

*

Maxim and Adelina watched from the shadows as Max escorted Artur back to his room.

“Drat! He’s guarded,” Adelina hissed.

“Don’t be hasty, my dear sister,” Maxim whispered back, though his eyes were glowing with hatred. “We must be careful. Open murder will not look well for us. We must find another way.”

*

Josh sent Max to fetch Artur the next morning, making sure he was never alone as he ate his breakfast. When the sun was high enough, Artur insisted on Joshua taking him down to the practice fields.

“You’ve been at war for how many years, Artur, and you _still_ want to practice?”

“You can never get enough practice,” Artur said obstinately.

Artur’s presence had one unexpected advantage; the guard assigned to watch over Jason at the fields that morning considered him company enough to leave the Princes together, and departed for his morning tea.

Jason and Joshua were delighted to be able to spend some time together, and spent several hours chatting while Artur shot targets and sparred with the dummy. But he was happy enough; venting his frustration on the practice equipment, while realising that Prince Jason was absolutely perfect for Josh in every way, made him feel lighter inside.

*

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair; Artur was allowed to join the family group for dinner, though he had to sit at the end of the table with Max. Maxim did not conceal his gloating smirk any time he looked at Artur, who shoved a stopper on his temper.

“Now Maxim, do tell me, how does your fighting go? I understood Mosca is at war.”

Artur’s ears pricked, and he wondered what Maxim would tell the King.

“Not anymore,” Maxim smirked, but his voice, Jason thought, had an oddly hypnotic quality to it. “Mosca’s armies have easily vanquished Rusal’s, and it is only a matter of time before it becomes a part of our lands, given their King is injured and weak, and their Prince is a battle-shy coward.”

Artur’s eyes blazed as he looked down at his plate, but he said nothing. The King seemed oblivious; everyone else had chanced a glance at Artur, but only the keen-eyed among them noticed his white-knuckled grip on the cutlery.

“And what of you? A fine young Prince such as yourself, heir to your mother’s throne? Perhaps your enemy’s Queen, to ensure the takeover?”

“Well, I certainly could not marry her,” Maxim laughed unpleasantly. “An old, harping woman, with two babes in arms, both boys. I imagine there are other Princesses around for me.”

Artur twitched; Max’s foot touched his briefly under the table.

“I have heard that the Princess of Volga is about your age.”

“Oh, yes,” Maxim answered disdainfully. “But I have heard the most questionable gossip about her and her chamberlain. I wish to have a lady for a bride, not a harlot.”

“ _Lies!_ ”

And Artur’s dagger was quivering in the wooden seat, just next to Maxim’s head.

“You have uttered enough insults tonight that I should have your head a thousand times over,” Artur growled. “To insult my brother is bad enough, the finest King Rusal has ever known and a finer one than Mosca shall ever know! But to insult his queen is worse – and then to spread slander about a pure young lady who isn’t even involved! You are a worthless, snivelling coward, Maxim!”

Maxim stood up. “I, the snivelling coward? Need I remind you who it was that staggered away bleeding and broken the last time we met, Artur? I do believe it was the worthless second Prince of Rusal! And do not call me a coward, when your beloved King will not even come out and fight!”

Artur drew his sword; Maxim drew his.

“Enough!” the King rose and glared at both young men. Then he turned to address Artur. “I do not know how things are done in Rusal, Prince Artur, but here, the drawing of swords within the castle is strictly forbidden. Were you a guest of any lesser status than a Prince, I would have you thrown out of the castle for your attempt on Prince Maxim’s life with your dagger.”

Artur stood cold and silent, his face dark. After a moment he spoke.

“And is it custom here, my lord, to allow others to insult your guests at the table?”

“Prince Maxim was talking of a warlike situation. Hardly comparable.”

Jaws dropped.

“Father, you cannot be serious,” Jason frowned. “What Prince Maxim said was hardly appropriate and to be frank I am more impressed that Prince Artur did not snap sooner.”

“You need not make apology for me, Prince Jason.” Artur said in a tight, clipped voice. “I know when I am no longer welcome. I have urgent business to attend to, and I must leave at once.”

Josh stood up.

“Artur, you were to stay for my wedding.”

“And if the Gods will it, I will return in time,” Artur answered. “But now I have an errand to the King that may not be delayed. I thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty, and wish you and your family the best of health and happiness.”

Artur strode from the hall.

“Well, I must say,” the King grumbled as he sat down. “Prince Joshua, you claim this man as a friend, yet his temper is so wild!”

“Artur does not have a wild temper, my lord,” Joshua answered. “It rises only when provoked.”

Maxim smirked from the other side of the table.

*

“Come, my friend,” Artur muttered to his horse. “Zhenya will be very interested to know of the goings-on here.” He slung his sword onto the special saddle sheath, and led the horse out of the stable into the darkness.

“Oh yes,” a smooth, deadly voice echoed out of the silence. “Yes, I am sure your _Zhenya_ will be very interested to know.”

Artur didn’t even have a chance to respond before his horse leapt sideways, pushing him out of the way; Maxim’s sword left a gaping slash in Artur’s tunic but no worse. He barely had time to process what had happened before he was dodging Maxim again; worse, his horse had bolted, taking his sword with it.

“Come on, little Coward Prince,” Maxim taunted, and lunged again.

Artur grabbed for his dagger. He had had lessons growing up on how to fight dagger against sword, but it had been a long time since he had actually had to put it in practice; even in war, most opponents were more honourable than that.

A cry of pain left his throat as he felt Maxim’s sword slash across his arm, and he felt the warmth of blood; a quick flex of his fingers revealed his arm to still be functional and he struck out, feeling his dagger ride through flesh; Maxim yelped in pain.

Suddenly there were lanterns and lights everywhere, and several guards pulled the two young men apart.

“What is going on here?” the King boomed.

“He attacked me, sir,” Maxim answered before Artur could say anything. “I was merely walking, and he jumped me out of nowhere in the dark, I had no choice but to defend myself!”

“Your Majesty, I was merely leaving as I had said, and had just come out of the stable when Prince Maxim jumped at me while I was unarmed and alone.”

Adelina was crying. “My poor brother, he wouldn’t hurt a fly! Oh, Maxim, your poor face! What would mother say? She would have a fainting spell at the very idea of someone attacking you!”

“Prince Maxim, you had best return to the castle and have the medics attend your injuries,” the King said warmly to Maxim. “Your sister will help you, I am sure.”

“Father, you don’t seriously believe Prince Maxim, do you?” Gracie gasped. “Look who was holding a sword, and who a dagger, when we arrived!”

“I do not recall allowing you to come down here,” the King frowned. “At any rate, you do not move me. Prince Artur, you are no longer welcome in this kingdom. Though I do not declare Rusal enemies, we are unfriends.”

Artur was silent for a moment, then bowed.

“Even the mightiest king can be misled into injustice,” he answered. “But it is well. The only thing I shall regret losing from this kingdom is my friend.” He glanced at Joshua as Lady Polina brought his horse back to him. “I wish you all health and happiness, and may Tarasova’s snake not bite you too soon.”

“Artur, wait! You can’t ride with your arm like that!”

Artur gave Josh another ghost smile.

“Maxim told the truth in one aspect at least. The last time I rode away from him, it was in far worse shape than this, I can assure you.”

He spurred his horse, and Josh was left to watch as his friend vanished in a cloud of dust.

“Well I never,” muttered King. “What a to-do. Who would have thought that the Prince of Rusal would be so ill-behaved? Yet he was well-spoken to the last. A strange thing.”

“Fair words in the face of injustice and defeat oft mean more than fair words for gain, father,” Jason said softly as they turned to walk inside.

“With every day you show more wisdom, son. I will make a King of you yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue dramatic music*


	13. Coup

“Your Majesty! Your brother has returned!”

“So soon?” Evgeni frowned, looking across at Yana in alarm. “He was to stay for his friend’s wedding – he’s barely been gone three days!”

Evgeni and Yana hurried down to the entrance hall to meet him – and gasped in horror as Artur stumbled in through the great doors, dusty and bloodstained.

“Kostya!” he snapped at his Captain of Guard, who was nearby. “Find General Kulik and have him and the other generals meet me in the war room in half an hour. Now!”

“Yes, sir!” Sir Menshov saluted, and hurried off.

They managed to get Artur into one of the parlours, and Yana ran to get some water.

“Artur, what happened?” Evgeni asked urgently.

“Tarasova’s snake,” Artur gasped, flinching as he began to pull the blood-soaked cloth of his sleeve away from his arm. “Maxim was in Illona. His sister Princess Adelina is engaged to their Prince.”

“What?”

“I think they are going to try and expand their lands that way,” Artur groaned as Yana set to work cutting his sleeve off. “Somehow they’ve fooled Illona’s King. But to answer the question, Maxim attacked me as I tried to leave to warn you.” Artur grimaced. “He’s got the King so fooled, he managed to concoct some sob-story about me attempting to kill him and him acting in self-defense. We are now officially unfriends with Illona.”

“You’ve done well, my brother,” Evgeni frowned, thinking rapidly. “Now rest, and let Yana fix up your arm. I must go to see the generals, for we are going back to war with Mosca!”

He limped hurriedly out of the room.

“You should not have ridden so fast with your arm in this state,” Yana scolded as she cleaned the wound.

“It’s fine,” Artur answered shortly. “I must go to my brother. Ow!”

Yana whipped him with the washcloth.

“You are going to sit down while I clean you up,” she answered menacingly, looming over him.

Artur held his arm out meekly.

*

A soft tap came on the door of the study where the King, Queen, their children and betrothed were seated, finalising wedding plans.

“Enter!”

Lady Polina curtseyed as she entered.

“Your Majesty, I wished to talk with you.”

“Certainly, Lady Polina. Is it a private matter?”

“No, it may be said before company, if the King grants me permission to speak.”

“Of course.”

“Last night, I was on stable watch duty,” Polina continued. She addressed the King, refusing to look at anyone else, her eyes fixed on his, forcing him to acknowledge the truth in her words. “I saw Prince Artur come out of the castle and come down to the stables. He began making his horse ready for a journey. He fastened his sword to the horse, and as he exited the stable, I saw Prince Maxim.”

She paused for added emphasis, knowing that everyone in the room’s attention was now on her. So fixed on her were they, that no-one noticed Adelina slip out – except Polina.

“He taunted Prince Artur, calling him a coward. And then he drew his sword and jumped upon Prince Artur. The latter did not even have his sword; his horse bolted then. Prince Artur was completely unarmed and taken totally off-guard. He drew his dagger in self-defense.”

There was a long silence, before Polina added, “Your Majesty, I am a guard of Illona, sworn to its service and yours, and sworn to honour and truth. I have never lied to you before. I would not start now.”

The King sat back in his chair. Something in his eyes shifted.

“Very well. Bring Prince Maxim to me. He has some explaining to do.”

*

“Brother, they know!”

“Quiet, sister! I shall ask mother what to do.”

Maxim pulled the pendant out of his shirt, clutching it between his hands. A pure piece of amber, it allowed him direct communication to his mother, who wore the matching piece in a ring on her finger. Adelina too had such a pendant, though hers was made of green glass.

_Mother, they know, they know that I tried to kill Prince Artur._

_Did I not tell you, son, that swords would be of no use?_

_I am sorry mother, I did not listen, I saw only an opportunity to rid ourselves of the king’s main defense._

_That does not matter now. You are sure they know?_

_One of his knights saw it and told the king. They will know._

_Then, Maxim, there is only one thing left to do._

_What is that, mother?_

_You must seize the throne of Illona – by force!_

*

The door to the study opened.

“You wished to see me, my lord?”

“Yes,” the King answered. “This is one of my knights, Lady Polina. She was on stable duty last night, and has told me a most interesting tale – one that directly contradicts yours.”

“Well then, the answer is evident, is it not, my lord? Clearly Prince Artur has slipped your knight some gold to spin a web of lies.”

“Do not impugn the honour of the knights of Illona!” Jason snapped. “How dare you insinuate such a thing!”

“Enough, Jason,” the King said sternly. “Prince Maxim, my knights are honourable and trustworthy, and Lady Polina most of all. I trust her word above all. I do not appreciate you slighting her honour.”

“You do not believe this story over mine?”

“I very much do, Prince Maxim. Which is why you have some explaining to do. I accept that you are at war with Rusal, however, to make an attempt on the life of one of their royal family in my grounds is completely unacceptable.”

“It is not for you to determine what is unacceptable behaviour for me towards the prince of Rusal,” Maxim scowled. “He’d have had my life if he had the chance.”

“And yet rather than do such a thing, he was preparing to depart the castle,” the King answered. “Prince Maxim, I am taking this most seriously.”

“And so am I,” Maxim answered.

_Do it! None of them are armed, seize the throne now!_

Maxim nodded as he heard his mother’s voice in his ear, and drew his sword.

“But all of this is now irrelevant,” Maxim growled. “ _I_ am now the King of Illona, not you!”

He lunged towards the King, resting the tip of his sword on his chest. Jason and Joshua leapt to their feet, but Adelina had also drawn a sword and brandished it at them.

“Yield the throne to me!” Maxim snarled at the King. “Yield it, or have it taken by force!”

The King glowered back at him.

“The next King of Illona will be my son Jason,” he answered clearly. “And I am not yet ready to set him on the throne!”

“Then you have chosen the option that ends in your death!”

The next moment Maxim had all the wind knocked out of him and felt his sword wrenched from his hand. When he regathered his wits, he realised that the person who had crash-tackled him was Polina. Gracie and Adelina were wrestling; her sword had also hit the floor.

_You fool,_ hissed the voice in his ear. _But no matter. The army is ready. Flee before they imprison you!_

Maxim pushed hard and managed to escape Polina’s grasp.

“Adelina!”

Adelina nodded and wrenched her wrist from Gracie’s grip. The two of them immediately turned tail and ran.

Polina snatched the sword up and began to follow.

“Wait, Lady Polina!”

“My lord?” Polina asked disbelievingly. “He just made an attempt on your life! I can chase them down and have them brought back.”

“No, Polina. Prince Maxim is not a foolish man. Why would he make an attempt on the King’s life in a castle full of guards and others who would have his life in an instant? Why would he do something so rash without backup?”

“You think they plan to attack?” Jason asked.

“No,” the King replied. “I think they already have. Lady Polina, fetch the generals. It would not at all surprise me if we receive word of invasion.”

*

“I take it your attempt on the King’s life failed?”

“Do not sneer at me, General Yagudin,” Maxim snapped. “I am hardly the first one in this room to fail at an attempt on a King’s life!”

Yagudin glared at him. _Cocky little upstart. Tarasova should have adopted me as her son._

“At any rate, it is time, let us begin!”

“Very well, Your Highness. I shall send word to break camp. We march within the hour to take Illona!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly my least favourite chapter. Sigh. Oh well. Hang onto your hats, folks.


	14. Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. I have to admit, war scenes have never been my forte.

“My lord?”

The King turned from his horse and saw Sir Aaron standing before him, fully armoured.

“Yes, Sir Aaron?”

“My lord, if you will allow it, I wish to ride with you into the front of the battle.”

The King frowned.

“Prince Joshua will ride with the second group. Do you not wish to ride with him?”

“No, Your Majesty. I wish to ride where there is the most chance of death.”

The King started in shock. But the look in Sir Aaron’s eyes told the truth: they were the eyes of a man who sought his own death.

“Why should you wish that, Sir Aaron?”

“If I may speak plain, my lord?”

“You may.”

“Because, my lord, a world where my love for your daughter is denied is a world I do not wish to live in.”

The King was too stunned to speak for a moment. Did Sir Aaron really love Gracie that much?

“Very well, Sir Aaron. You may ride in my van.” _If only so that I can keep an eye on you._

Max bowed. “Thankyou, Your Majesty.”

The King looked around; they were almost ready. He mounted up.

“I do wish you’d let me come, father,” Jason’s voice said tensely; he looked down and saw his son looking anxious and pale.

“No, Jason,” the King answered. “For one, the King and his heir never ride to battle together. If something should happen to me, you would be King. For second, I cannot leave the castle unguarded; and who better to lead its defence than the one who will inherit it one day?”

Jason nodded.

“Look after your mother and your sister.”

“Yes, father.”

The King straightened up – and noticed Gracie walking among his van.

“Gracie, my dear?”

“Just seeing you off, father,” she said; her face was tight and pale too. But as the King watched out of the corner of his eye, Gracie tied a scrap of fabric to Sir Aaron’s swordbelt.

_Does she really love him that much?_

“Move out!”

There was a great shuffle of hooves, and the army of Illona was on the move, pouring out of the city gates towards war.

Jason and Gracie stood together on the front step of the castle, and their hands found each other.

“Oh brother...I hope they all come back.”

“Me too, sister, me too.”

*

“Professor Mishin is going to kill you,” Artur told his brother.

“Nonsense,” Evgeni answered brusquely. “I feel better for the exercise.”

“Promise me you’ll stay out of the battle and direct it from afar,” Artur replied anxiously. “Brother, you are in no condition to fight.”

Evgeni eyed his brother sideways.

“You cannot make the King promise you anything.”

“ _Zhenya_ ,” Artur groaned. “Yana would _kill_ me if anything happened to you. And I could not live with myself if it did.”

“Do not fear for me, little brother,” Evgeni smiled. “I am quite the swordsman, you know. I can hold my own.”

“I hate to interrupt this little discussion, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” General Kulik interjected, riding alongside them. “But the Mosca army is in sight. Shall I order the charge?”

Evgeni grinned wolfishly and drew his sword.

“No. _I_ shall.”

“Brother!”

Evgeni kicked his mount into a canter and charged to the front of the line; he raised his sword into the air, and his battle-cry echoed across the plain.

“For Rusal! Our enemy is ahead! _Charge_!”

*

“The attack has begun,” Adelina reported to her brother. “Illona charges from the front. Rusal falls on us from behind.”

“They will find our force bigger than they anticipated,” Maxim grinned. “Adelina, take the special troop and go attack the castle. General Yagudin and I shall take care of things here.”

“Yes, brother,” Adelina smiled, and headed out.

“General Yagudin,” Maxim said. “The King and Prince are _mine_.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, it was I who wounded the King last time; I beg you to give me the opportunity to finish the job.”

“No,” Maxim answered sternly. “I am going to finish it. The King should not be difficult, but I _must_ have the Prince.”

General Yagudin ground his teeth. “Yes, my lord.”

_Not while I live, brat. King Evgeni is **mine**!_

*

The King of Illona couldn’t quite recall how he’d ended up unhorsed, only that he was now in the same way as most of his knights. It had been a while since he’d fought such a long battle, and he was starting to grow tired.

He stopped suddenly, recognising one of the knights lying wounded on the ground; Sir Abbott, one of his best and bravest. He dropped his sword and knelt down next to him, but it was clear the wound was grave. The King immediately looked around for a medic – and caught the figure of one of Mosca’s soldiers looming over him with sword raised out of the corner of his eye.

A second figure suddenly hurtled through his view, smashing into the soldier and engaging him in a vicious fight, which ended with the soldier turning tail and running. At first, the King didn’t recognise his saviour, until he saw the frosted blue scarf with silver trim tied to his swordbelt.

_Gracie’s scarf._

_Sir Aaron!_

_He risked his life to save mine?_

_A true knight – brave and selfless._

He looked down at Sir Abbott, and remembered that he was not himself a knight born; remembered the child brought to the castle barracks to learn, remembered the youth who was always keen to prove himself.

He looked up again, and Sir Aaron had disappeared back into the fray.

_A true knight._

_A noble knight._

_Not of noble blood, but noble spirit._

*

Artur would have been enjoying the rush of adrenaline that being back on the front line gave him if he wasn’t so darned worried about Evgeni.

The King of Rusal was fighting as fiercely as his own men, but he was starting to slow; he was out of battle shape, and his old wounds were beginning to hurt him again, that much was obvious. And so Artur spent most of his time fighting with one eye away from his opponent.

“Well, well, well,” a voice sneered. “If it isn’t the coward Prince!”

“Coward yourself, Maxim!” Artur snarled. “This time I _will_ have you!”

*

“My lord!”

Jason drew his sword on instinct; he turned and saw one of the gate guards rushing up, bloodstained.

“What happened?”

“A whole battalion of Mosca soldiers! We did our best.”

“I know you did. Everyone! Battle stations!”

But there was no time for that. Mosca soldiers were suddenly everywhere, and Jason was hard put to it to fight his way out. He searched the fray for Gracie; she was standing by the castle doors, sword drawn, ready to fight.

Adelina saw the other princess waiting by the door, and immediately changed course.

“Where’s your pretty boyfriend, Gracie?” she taunted. “My brother will make sure he never returns!”

“Your brother will meet his doom at Max’s hands,” Gracie snapped back. “On the other hand, for you, this ends now!”

Jason wanted to help his sister. But there were soldiers everywhere, a swirling and seething tangle of bodies engaged in a terrible battle, and it seemed to go on for days –

Gracie was sweating. Adelina was clearly well-trained and strong, but there was something in her eyes – something unnatural, inhuman, and in it, Gracie read the truth. Adelina could not be stopped. Some higher force had its hold on her.

She ducked to avoid a blow and slipped, quickly turning her fall into a roll the way Max had taught her, not ever presenting a target. Before her roll finished, she lashed out with her legs and then a perfect stop-thrust with her sword.

But Adelina’s balance had been too good, and she didn’t fall the way Gracie intended; the stop thrust tore through the fabric just above Adelina’s armour and caught on the chain of her necklace.

Everything seemed to stop. There was a long moment when Gracie’s sword was simply pushing against the necklace; then the chain snapped, and, impossibly slowly, the glass pendant somersaulted to the ground and shattered.

Adelina’s eyes went blank and she collapsed.

“Gracie!”

The fighting seemed to have stopped; too many killed or injured, Gracie didn’t want to know. She kicked Adelina’s sword away from her, and, wary, her dagger at the ready, knelt by the unconscious girl.

The touch of her hand on the forehead roused Adelina. Her eyes opened – and they were different, different to any way Gracie had ever known them. There was depth there, and soul, and...fear?

“Where am I?” Adelina whimpered, seeing only a woman kneeling over her with a dagger. “Who are you?”

Gracie and Jason stared at each other in utter shock.


	15. Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sucky battle scene continues.

Evgeni had been enjoying himself enormously – until the arrow thudded into his arm.

And when he looked down at it, he realised that he’d put himself into a very stupid, very vulnerable situation.

Because the fletch on that arrow was one he recognised from his youngest days on the front. That colour combination belonged to only one man from Mosca.

“I failed before. I won’t fail again.”

“Yagudin.”

“Plushenko.”

The two men glared at each other with equal hatred. The entire world could have blown up in that moment and they wouldn’t have noticed. They were the only two people who existed.

“You’re not looking so good,” Yagudin taunted, advancing. “You look pale. Old injuries playing up?”

“You’re not looking that great yourself,” Evgeni answered, ripping the arrow from his arm. “You’ve put on a _lot_ of weight since I last saw you.”

They circled each other for a moment, and then at the same moment, both lunged forward.

*

“I don’t understand,” Jason frowned. “She doesn’t even know where she is?”

“It happened when I broke the necklace,” Gracie frowned. She pushed the pieces around with the tip of her sword. A small swirl of black smoke rose and vanished.

“Where’s my brother?” Adelina sobbed behind them. “What have you done with him?”

“Done with him? He’s fighting of his own volition,” Gracie replied sharply, but suddenly she found herself wondering if that was true.

“My necklace!” Adelina gasped, staring down at the shattered mess. “Oh, oh, mother’s going to kill me, she made me swear never to take it off, oh, I can’t hear her voice any more, what am I going to do?”

Gracie looked down at the necklace again. Shattered. A vow to never take it off. The shattered glass meaning Adelina would not hear Tarasova’s voice –

She looked at Jason and knew he’d reached the same insane, impossible conclusion.

And then fear clutched at her heart.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “If Adelina was being controlled, then so is Maxim. And if Maxim is being controlled...”

Jason went pale.

“They’re all in danger!”

There was a moment’s pause, when the only sound was Adelina’s sobbing. Then Gracie turned.

“Guards! Take Princess Adelina to the cells. Watch her closely.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I’ll have to go warn them!”

“What if it’s too late?” Gracie asked anxiously. “And besides, you know the king and his heir can’t go to battle together. What if something happened to both of you?”

“Then you will make a wonderful Queen. But someone needs to warn them, and my horse is faster than yours.”

“You don’t need a horse.”

They turned and saw Lukas standing in the doorway, holding something in his hands.

“Do you not use the birds in your kingdom?” Lukas added. “Birds that are raised from hatchlings at the hands of the young ones, and trained to find and recognise them no matter where they go. This is one of Joshua’s. Even in the middle of battle, it will find him.”

Gracie and Jason looked at each other. Then Jason turned and ran inside. “Find me a pen and paper! Quick!”

*

Evgeni refused to admit it.

There was no way in the world above, the world below, or any of the worlds in between that he was weaker and slower than General Alexei Yagudin.

And absolutely no way was he going to admit that it was because of Yagudin that he was now fallen on the ground, bleeding rather copiously, his sword just beyond his reach. No, he’d rather die first than admit he’d been bested by Yagudin again.

(Which was kind of convenient, because he probably was about to die.)

Evgeni tried to reach for his dagger, but none of his limbs would obey him. He tried to force himself harder; he just _had_ to defend himself, not lie here uselessly waiting! And what was this _blasted_ darkness crowding at the edge of his vision?

Somewhere to one side, he heard two howls of rage; equal in the fire behind, but for different reasons, he thought. He could feel feet pounding in the ground beneath his back as two young men came running towards them, one with a more broken stride than the other.

Alexei Yagudin hesitated.

All these years, he’d hated and fought and plotted. It had been so long, that he felt like his entire life had been spent trying to defeat and kill the King of Rusal.

And here was Evgeni now, lying broken and defeated at his feet...and Alexei could not deliver the fatal blow.

It would be so easy; push the point of his sword through the neck, slice an artery. He’d even daydreamed about it sometimes, dreamed of this moment of victory.

But somehow now it didn’t seem like victory, and killing him didn’t seem so easy. Especially not when the pale beautiful king was lying there, weak, with no means of defense...

Alexei lowered his sword.

And suddenly screamed in white-hot agony as the point of another sword ripped through his side, at the gap in his armour.

“I told you the King was _mine!”_ Maxim screamed, kicking Alexei’s feet from under him; Alexei couldn’t get back up. The pain was raging through his body, and he realised that the tip of Maxim’s sword was poisoned.

Maxim raised his sword, gloating as he prepared to execute the King of Rusal. This would be his finest moment –

“Not you again!”

Artur stood over Evgeni’s body, sword raised, bloodstained and weary but with eyes as bright as the freshest of his soldiers.

“If you want to kill him, you will have to kill me first,” Artur said clearly.

“That can be arranged!” Maxim growled, leaping forward.

*

“The King of Rusal is down! Prince Maxim is down there! Quick, quick, a rescue!”

All who heard the King’s cry ran down the hill towards the scene. Josh glanced sideways as he ran, pushing Mosca soldiers aside, and realised that Max was running beside him as they followed the king. Bloodied and bruised, but otherwise all right, it seemed death had cheated Max that day, and Josh was grateful.

A bird circled high above the valley for a moment, before dropping into a steep dive.

*

 Artur’s howl of pain was audible even over the clash and ring of metal on metal. Josh ran faster – and felt the punch of something hitting him in the back.

He had thought it was an arrow, but when he looked across at Max, he saw Max holding a bird. One of his message birds.

“Max! Cover me!”

Max stood guard over his Prince as Joshua quickly unrolled the note, his eyes darting over Jason’s familiar handwriting.

_The necklace controls Maxim’s mind. Break it, and end the battle. X_

Josh burst into a dead sprint.

If only he was not too late!

*

There was pain in every nerve of Artur’s body, and he was sure there wasn’t a single piece of clothing on his body not drenched in blood. But none of that mattered. Maxim was crouched over Evgeni, ready to kill him. Artur had to protect him. It was his duty.

_He remembered the day Evgeni had been brought home injured and near death from the front. He remembered clear as day Professor Mishin addressing him solemnly: Prince Evgeni must never ride to war again. When he is King, little one, you will have to be King for him, on the field._

_Protect the King._

_Protect my brother._

_My brother – my Zhenya._

He had failed.

Then Maxim let out a cry of rage and there was a great wham of sound as a body collided with Maxim’s. And Artur saw it, saw his saviour and his brother’s as the two men fought, not with sword or with dagger, but with their fists and feet and cunning – it was Joshua!

Josh had only one thing on his mind. Get the necklace, get the necklace. He had no doubt that Jason’s information was right.

He reached out with one hand, grabbing desperately at Maxim’s throat, and felt the slim links of metal beneath his fingertips. Reacting quickly, he kicked hard at Maxim at the same time as he pulled.

The chain snapped and the amber pendant flew through the air and landed near Artur.

“Artur! Stab the pendant!”

Artur blinked, trying to process the statement. Then it clicked. The pendant?

“Stab it!”

Artur gripped his dagger as tightly as he could, and mustered every ounce of strength in his body. Then with an enormous effort, he drove the point of the dagger down into the piece of amber.

Maxim suddenly went limp and unconscious. And a great scream went up from the pendant, along with a dark wisp of smoke, before it broke apart.

*

The guards came running at the scream, and found the Queen slumped over in her chair, her two rings shattered.

*

And like a ripple from a pebble thrown into a pond, the fighting gradually stopped.

*

“They’ve returned!”

Jason and Gracie came running into the entrance hall at the cry, desperate, aching, each wondering what they would do if one they loved was dead, and each in denial that it might be so.

“Father!”

And there was the King, a little worse for wear but standing on his own two feet.

But behind them appeared the two they really wanted to see.

“Joshua!”

“Max!”

Forgetting all propriety, forgetting all rules, and forgetting all sorrows, they ran together, Jason wrapping his arms around Josh, Max lifting Gracie joyfully into the air and pulling her close.

Then they realised the King was watching them, and quickly broke apart, adopting demure postures and deferent bodies.

“Sir Aaron.”

Max stepped forward and bowed to the King.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I did not thank you out there, for saving my life.”

“It was what anyone would have done, my lord.”

“I do not believe so.”

Max didn’t know how to answer that, so he stayed quiet.

“Certainly, out there on the field, you have shown that you are a man of great strength and courage, a man of chivalry and honour and yet a fierce warrior. There are many knights born who cannot say the same.”

Max remained silent, unsure how to respond.

“Sir Aaron, you have proven yourself worthy to me,” the King smiled. “Worthy to be a knight of honour, worthy to be ranked higher than those of noble birth...”

Hope blossomed suddenly in Jason’s heart. And seeing the look on his face, Gracie’s spirits began to rise.

“...and a worthy man to be the husband of a Princess.”

Max’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. Had he really just heard what he thought he’d heard?

A huge grin split across Gracie’s face and she ran to hug the King.

There was a moment’s hesitation, then the King’s smile grew wider, and he added:

“Not to mention, a worthy man to father the future King’s heirs.”

There was a shivering moment of silver silence; and then all was noise and joy as cheers rose when the King’s meaning became clear. Jason rushed to hug his father as well, and Max and Josh just clung to each other for a moment, overwhelmed that suddenly everything had fallen into place.

The King pulled his son and daughter close, and kissed their hair.

“I love you very much, my darlings,” he whispered. “I am sorry.”


	16. Judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the cheesy ending stuff...sort of.

When King Evgeni opened his eyes, he frowned.

The roof was unfamiliar. This bed was unfamiliar. He shifted slightly – these clothes were unfamiliar and _ow!_ Why did everything hurt so much?

Then a figure shifted into his field of vision, and he recognised the King of Illona.

“You’re awake. We were beginning to worry.”

Everything rushed back into Evgeni’s head then.

“How many days has it been since the battle?”

“Only one, my lord, but you grew feverish for a while there, and we weren’t sure you’d make it. See, it turns out Prince Maxim’s sword was poisoned, and you and your brother both got a hefty dose.”

“Artur!” Evgeni tried to sit up and failed. “Where is Artur?”

“He is well, my lord,” the King reassured him. “As well as you could expect. General Yagudin of Mosca identified the type of poison for us and we got to both of you in time – and to him.”

Evgeni allowed his confusion to show.

“For whatever reason, Maxim turned on Yagudin.”

_He lowered his sword._

_He refused to kill me._

_Why?_

“Artur is not badly hurt?”

“No, brother. They patched me up pretty well. I’m in better shape than you.”

Evgeni turned his head and saw Artur sitting in a chair on the other side of his bed. He had bandages everywhere, and a huge purple bruise on one side of his face, but he was smiling, and his eyes had light and sparkle in them, which pleased Evgeni.

He tried again to sit up and barely managed it with the help of Artur shoving a strong pillow behind his back.

“I fear I must speak with you on a matter of state,” the King continued, pouring a glass of water for Evgeni. “If we may...?”

“My brother is always privy to my matters of state,” Evgeni answered the unspoken question. “You may speak freely before him.”

The King nodded.

“We have Prince Maxim and Princess Adelina in our cells – we have allowed them to be together, though they are carefully watched. The question now is, what shall we do with them? As the lord of the country with the most grievance against them, I feel it is your right, not mine, to suggest their fate.”

Evgeni frowned. What _should_ they do about the Prince and Princess? He had no ill-will towards the Princess, though he guessed Illona did. But the Prince – his blood began to boil – the Prince should hang...

Seeing the look on his brother’s face had Artur speaking almost before he thought.

“If I may make a suggestion, my lords?”

“You may,” Evgeni answered, distracted.

“I suggest, my lords, that we hold off on any decision for a few days at least. Right now everything is still raw and fresh. Give it a few days to allow tempers to cool and heads to level. We would not want to rush into anything unjust.”

Evgeni and the King looked at each other, surprised.

“Your brother speaks fairly,” the King commented. “I agree with him.”

“Very well. We’ll leave it for the moment,” Evgeni agreed.

Artur smiled and stood himself up using a crutch, leaning heavily on it.

“If that’s all, I’ll go see Joshua. Do you mind, Your Majesties?”

“Not at all, but are you supposed to be walking around?” the King asked sternly.

“No,” Artur answered flippantly. “But if you don’t tell, I won’t tell them you gave Sir Abbott a piece of cake.”

The King blinked.

“You saw that?”

“I am the Spy Prince of Rusal,” Artur grinned. “I know everything.” He limped out.

“However did you handle him?”

“Badly,” Evgeni grinned. “But I’ll take it. He’s been far too serious and never playful the last six years. How is your Sir Abbott?”

“Well enough, and chomping at the bit to get back into training. His hip isn’t in good shape though, the physicians are talking possible retirement.”

“Lose many?”

“Always too many,” the King sighed. “If only I had seen the spells they had placed on us sooner!”

“Your children are very smart,” Evgeni smiled. “Saved my life, they did, when they told Prince Joshua what to aim for.”

“They are very smart,” the King puffed up with pride. “I should have listened to them from the start.”

Evgeni’s face grew thoughtful.

“I wonder...”

“Wonder what, my lord?”

“We are old men, and experienced. But maybe level, younger heads should prevail on this one. Why not allow the young ones to make the decision on Maxim and Adelina? Apart from my physical injuries, most of which were given me by Yagudin, neither of them have really harmed either of us as much as they have harmed the young ones.”

The King sat back.

“Maybe,” he considered. “And I have been meaning to start allowing Jason a little more power over decisions. I won’t be around forever and I certainly do not intend on being King into my dotage.”

“A small council,” Evgeni suggested. “Artur, your son and daughter, and perhaps Prince Joshua?”

“That’s only four. There needs to be five so that there is a tiebreaker vote,” the King answered. “What about Sir Aaron? He is one of the wronged parties, and seems to have a good head.”

“A knight will balance out the council well,” Evgeni agreed.

“It’s settled then.”

*

“What do you think will happen to us, sister?” Maxim whispered, clutching Adelina’s arm. “I’ve heard them talking. I remember some of it. We’ve done something terrible to all of them.”

“I don’t know, brother,” Adelina whispered back. “I don’t think it’ll be nice. We don’t deserve nice.”

“We’re dead for sure, sister. Or at least, I am. I tried to take the life of a Prince and _two_ Kings!” Maxim groaned. “No-one would ever allow me to walk free!”

“Mother wouldn’t leave us here to die,” Adelina said, but her voice was trembling. “I’m sure she wouldn’t. She’ll have a plan. She will!”

“Her plan got us here,” Maxim whimpered. “And I can’t hear her voice any more. Oh Adelina, I’m so afraid!”

Adelina just hugged her brother tight.

*

“A council?” Jason asked, confused. “They want _us_ to pass judgement on Maxim and Adelina?”

“The five of us,” Artur confirmed. “Me, you, Gracie, Joshua and Max. Tomorrow we will sit in judgement.”

“My judgement isn’t exactly the world’s greatest,” Max muttered. “Have they forgotten I never intended to come back?”

“But you did,” Gracie smiled at him.

“Well, we’ve been given this task, so I guess we’ll all just have to do our best at it,” Josh said. “I don’t know how good at this I’ll be; David was always the one asked to sit in with father’s councils, not me.”

There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by soft _snips_ ; Lukas had finally got his way with Max’s hair and was busy cutting the mop of curls shorter. After a moment Lukas plucked the courage to speak.

“And don’t forget,” he said quietly, “You’re not deciding petty things like lands here. The penalty for treason in most countries is death. You have two lives in your hands.”

A thick anxious silence greeted Lukas’ words. Suddenly Gracie muttered, “No pressure, Lukas!”

“None at all,” Lukas answered mildly.

*

When the guards came, Maxim and Adelina stood tall and proud to greet them, dusting each other off quickly and straightening their clothes.

“Remember, sister, we are Prince and Princess, no matter what happens,” Maxim said quietly. “And I love you.”

“I love you too, brother,” Adelina whispered, as they were shackled.

Sir Abbott stood lopsidedly in front of them.

“I have come to lead you before the council of judgement, who will decide your fate,” he pronounced.

Maxim was confused. “They have not already decided?”

“No, they have not. Be silent.”

Maxim glanced at his sister, confused. How had they not decided? He knew how he would have reacted if he were King; it would have been off with their heads as fast as they could blink.

*

“Tell me honestly, Artur. You’re the one who suffered the greatest wrong at their hands. Do you want his head?”

Artur was silent for a while, frowning.

“No,” he said at last. “No. Had he succeeded in killing my brother, I might consider it differently. But he didn’t, and Zhenya will heal, in time. Somehow, I feel like it would be stooping to their level, to order Maxim’s head off.”

Jason nodded and looked around at the others.

“I agree with Artur,” Joshua said quietly. “Haven’t we all seen enough bloodshed? What good will it do to kill them both?”

“And I do not believe Adelina has done anything to warrant her death,” Gracie added. “Though she was a part of the plot, it never came to fruition, and the worst she did was try to trap Jason into marriage.”

“And attack you,” Max muttered.

“I can handle myself.”

“Max?”

Max was quiet. Finally he asked, “Why do I get a say?”

“Because you are Gracie’s betrothed, and because you were also wronged by them. My father trusts your judgement.”

Max sighed. “I don’t want to sound like a sheep, but I agree with the others. I think a death sentence will just make things worse.”

Jason nodded. “I also think a death sentence is too harsh. Well, I guess that just leaves one other question: what _do_ we do with them?”

*

Jason shifted slightly uncomfortably; the five seats had been placed before his father’s throne, but he wasn’t used to sitting at the head centre of the room, much less with the others by his side. If this was being King, well...right now, he didn’t like it much.

As the council was held in Illona, Jason was considered the head. To his right sat Artur, and his left, Gracie. To maintain a semblance of propriety, Max was seated on Artur’s other side, and Joshua on Gracie’s. Jason tried not to glance sideways. His eyes flicked instead to his father, and King Evgeni, seated to one side of the room, and out of the way.

The doors opened, and Maxim and Adelina were led in. Jason frowned.

“Sir Abbott, kindly remove the shackles from the prisoners,” he instructed. “There are plenty of guards about, and those look heavy to those who must stand.”

Jeremy bowed and did as instructed.

“Prince Maxim and Princess Adelina, you must know why you stand before us today.”

Maxim didn’t trust himself to speak; he simply nodded. If anything, the sight of the five young ones enthroned before him terrified him even more than if just the two Kings had sat in judgement. Especially Artur. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the Rusalian Prince, still heavily bandaged, still with a large bruise on his face (though now it was turning a very interesting yellowish-green).

“The charge levelled at both of you is treason, and at you, Prince Maxim, also of attempted murder of a King. Of old, the penalty for both crimes, in Illona, in Mosca, in Rusal, in Coloda, was death.”

There was absolute silence in the hall. Maxim fought to stand tall and proud and not grab his sister. Prince Jason had a sword lain across his lap; surely he was staring his death in the face.

“These are not days of old, and the situation we find ourselves in now is most abnormal,” Jason continued. “Though we still hold both of you accountable for your actions, we concede that your minds were not the driving force behind them, but rather, governed by a spell laid there by your mother.”

Adelina held her breath.

“Particularly important to us all in the determination of your fate was the judgement of Prince Artur, who we hold the most grievously wronged of the five of us. You ought to be grateful to him, Prince Maxim. He has saved your life.”

Maxim’s gaze shot across to Artur, stunned. Had he really just heard what he thought he had? Had Artur voted _against_ the death penalty?

“Therefore...”

“Your Highnesses.”

There was a stir at the end of the hall, and Lady Polina came striding up, dressed in dusty riding clothes, clearly having just returned from a journey.

“May I speak before you pronounce your judgement, Your Highness?”

“You may speak, Lady Polina.”

“I have just returned from Mosca, where I have been investigating the outcome of the action here. I have made a discovery that will have to influence your decisions.” She paused.

“It would seem that when the pendants were broken at this end, more was fractured than just the spell placed upon the Prince and Princess. The power Queen Tatiana exerted through the spell was great, and the breaking of the spell so violent, that it caused a backlash of power. The Queen’s mind was shattered. She now knows little of what goes on around her, and needs constant care. She is certainly in no state to rule a land, and Mosca is presently leaderless, given that the heir to her throne and her most trusted general were both at the front.”

Lady Polina’s words were greeted with shocked silence. No Queen in Mosca?

“The council will retire briefly to consider this news,” Jason said formally, his mind whirring.

Almost as soon as they got into the small chamber off the hall all five of them started talking.

“What do we do?”

“Mosca can’t be left leaderless.”

“All right, all right, calm down. What are we going to do?”

There was a moment of quiet.

“Mosca can’t be left leaderless,” Gracie said. “They need a King or Queen. Or at the very least a regent.”

“What about giving Mosca over to Rusal?” Max suggested. “It could be the penalty for their crimes, that Mosca becomes a part of Rusal.”

“No,” Artur shook his head. “Such a decision would lead to civil war. And anyway, it is not the people’s choice.”

“So what do we do?”

*

Maxim was trying not to fidget too anxiously. He was trying to guess what was going on behind those doors, and failing. If it was him...if he had chosen, he knew what he would have done; he’d have consigned Mosca to Rusal and taken his head off faster than he could have blinked.

But Artur had made it clear he was not to die for his crimes...

The door opened.

“Prince Maxim.”

He stepped forward.

“In light of the news that has come to us from Mosca, we have decided your fate.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You are to take your place as King of Mosca. But note that Mosca will now be subject to Rusal, and as King you must take oath that you shall never again take up arms save for in the defence of your country. Further, you must yourself relinquish any and all weaponry save a ceremonial sword, which must be blunt. You will be watched closely.”

Maxim’s eyes widened. He was to be King? They were going to allow him to rule Mosca? As a vassal king to Rusal, sure, but still!

“As to you, Princess Adelina, you must reside in the castle with your brother as his right hand. If in future you were to marry one with whom you wished to live elsewhere, this restriction may be reviewed.”

Adelina couldn’t help her smile.

“This is our judgement, Prince Maxim. What say you? Do you accept these conditions?”

For a moment, Maxim couldn’t speak. The justice, the fairness of the decision...

“Yes...yes, Your Highness. I accept all conditions.”

“Then join us for dinner tonight, King Maxim,” Jason smiled. “We shall arrange your coronation post-haste.”

Maxim smiled.

*

“Prince Artur.”

Artur smiled. “King Maxim. I would rise to greet you, but unhappily, I am as yet not so recovered as to make standing easy.”

“I would not wish you to.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Maxim asked awkwardly, “How is your brother?”

“He is well. But he still tires easily, so the doctors thought it right he stay in his rooms tonight.”

“Of course.”

“You wish to ask me a question, do you not?”

Maxim nodded and sat down in a chair next to Artur’s.

“I wanted to ask why you...why...”

“Why I did not ask for your head?”

“Yes.”

Artur looked away, across the parlour to where Gracie and Max were seated together, and Joshua and Jason, and the King and Queen, so smiling and happy to see their children at peace.

At last he said, with a faint smile,

“I believe everyone deserves a second chance. Don’t you?”


	17. The Wedding(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pointless fluff chapter ahoy!

 

Josh tapped gently on the door of Max’s chamber.

“It’s open.”

Opening it, Josh smiled broadly. Lukas was still jumping around Max, straightening and adjusting and adding, but Max looked splendid; attired more nobly than Josh had ever seen him.

But his face, though handsome above the smart clothes, was white as snow.

“Are you okay, Max?”

“I don’t know how to be a husband,” Max answered anxiously, unconsciously echoing Joshua’s own words to him – was it only six months ago?

“You love Gracie, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Max answered, a smile creeping onto his face. “But – oh gosh, Josh, she deserves a Prince, someone well-versed in court life, not me!”

“She deserves you, Max, because she loves you, and you love her,” Josh laughed. “And as to court life, just how many times did you tag along with me when we were younger? You know as much about it as I do, and likely more, since as a knight you are more privy to the general concerns.”

Max smiled self-consciously. “I feel like I’m going to crack.”

“You look wonderful. Besides, you won’t be a knight for much longer.”

“Do you think I’ll have to give up my training?”

“I doubt it. Not if the King has any say. I heard him telling my father he was so happy to be getting not only a noble son-in-law but the best knight Coloda has. I think it’ll be all right.”

Max turned to face Joshua as Lukas finally left him alone.

“Why aren’t you nervous?”

“I am,” Josh said ruefully as Lukas turned his attention to him. “But it’s easier to worry about you than to think about what I’m about to do!”

“You should be nervous,” Max smiled. “Your other half is going to be King, you know.”

“Yes,” Josh answered with a wry grin. “But _you_ have a greater responsibility: you need to father a son!”

Max pulled a face at him. “Yikes, not yet!”

*

“You know you offended the maids most terribly,” Gracie smiled. “They were most put out.”

“I am sorry for that,” Jason admitted as he brushed her hair. “But I was so nervous. I just couldn’t keep to my room. The servants would not let me go out in case I saw Joshua, so here I am.”

Gracie closed her eyes. “I’m glad you came. I’m so nervous, too.”

“I keep thinking something will go wrong. What if someone changes their mind? What if Maxim has not truly accepted our terms?”

“I think he has, brother. He seems to be working hard on the restoration of peace, and you saw him hand over his sword to King Evgeni yourself.”

Jason began braiding Gracie’s hair and pulling some of it up into a bun. “Yes, I think so. Oh Gracie, I’m just nervous, don’t mind me.”

“We both are, Jase,” Gracie answered. “I can hardly believe it.”

“Me neither,” Jason threaded the flowers into her braids, and then carefully set the tiara and veil on top. “There. You look more beautiful than any Queen.”

Gracie stood carefully, mindful of her full white skirts, and examined herself in the mirror.

“Do you think Max will like it?”

“Oh Gracie, I’m quite sure he won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

“You look splendid too, brother,” Gracie beamed. “But your hair! Sit down, I’ll fix it for you. You can’t just have a plain ponytail today.”

Jason submitted himself to Gracie’s nervous hands, and sighed in relief as he felt the brush pulling through. It was calming, soothing, and all his nerves left him; he was marrying the man he loved, in a double wedding with his beloved sister, and he was happier than he’d ever been.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

“My dears?”

“Come in, father.”

The King entered and smiled at the sight of his two beautiful children, all in white, their smiles wide. Gracie had finished Jason’s hair; three braids on each side now ran back into the ponytail.

“You both look wonderful.” The King tried to stop the lump forming in his throat. “I’m so proud of you both. Can you ever forgive me...?”

Jason and Gracie just hugged him tightly.

*

“Smile,” Artur chuckled. “You’re at your wedding, not your execution.”

“I thought you were supposed to be my best man, Artur.”

“I am. But you look so grave!”

Josh managed to shoot a glare at Artur, standing on his own now, the crutch discarded, as they waited at the head of the great hall for Jason and Gracie. Max was shaking by his side; on Max’s other side Lukas was best man, muttering soothing words of encouragement while trying to keep his own joy under control; he had received the letter from the King of Coloda himself that very day, granting him admission to the University.

Then suddenly behind them the doors opened; there were _oohs_ and _aahs_ running through the hall. Josh wished royal protocol allowed him to turn around, but somehow, he and Max managed to stay facing the celebrant.

Artur and Lukas, however, were facing back down the aisle, and the looks on their faces told them everything they needed to know. Artur was grinning hugely; he bent down to Joshua and whispered, “They both look amazing.”

And then they were there, and the King set the hand of his son in Joshua’s, and the hand of his daughter in Max’s, and stepped back, tears in his eyes.

None of the four young people at the front of the hall heard much of the ceremony beyond the moment they swore their vows to each other. But they did hear the words that set a thousand butterflies soaring from their hearts:

“I now pronounce you wed. You may kiss.”

There was a great roar of approval from everyone in the hall, and then Joshua had bent to kiss Jason, and Max pushed back the veil to kiss Gracie, and in that moment, everything was perfect.


	18. Epilogue

_The years rolled by, as they were wont to do, and peace and prosperity settled across the four kingdoms. Maxim became a wise and strong king and an able leader, and before five years had passed, was released from his vassal status._

_A child was born to Gracie and Max in the first year after their wedding, a beautiful baby boy they named Oliver, after Gracie’s grandfather. The kingdom rejoiced, for the future was secure, and there would be another king to follow Jason. Other children later followed, and castle of Illona was full of joy and laughter and mischief once more._

_Jason ascended the throne of Illona at the age of thirty; a young king, but a wise and good one, and all the more wise for the never-wavering presence by his side of his beloved husband. Their love was unshakeable, and they found new happiness in each other with every passing day._

_Lukas graduated the University with the highest marks of any student who had ever entered it; and to everyone’s delight and joy, became Illona’s official royal doctor, tending the friends he had loved so long._

_And Lady Polina? Her bright intelligence, clever wit and incredible battle strength had caught the eye of a young King, a King with no wife or heir, and who admired her courage and intelligence. The King of Illona lost his favourite spy knight, but the new Queen of Mosca was beloved by her people._

_King Evgeni’s darling wish was also gratified; after an exceedingly long and shy period of courtship, hints, and bald suggestions, Artur finally requested the hand of the Princess of Volga, and he and Elizaveta were married. The last of Artur’s shyness went, then, and he was finally truly happy; for now he knew that even the second Prince could be loved as well as the first._

_Does it sound trite to say they all lived happily ever after? I am afraid the cliché cannot be escaped; though life is never perfect, and theirs of course was not, they lived with as much happiness and love as anyone could hope for, and that was enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the line. Thanks to everyone who helped/read/put up with me occasionally forgetting to update/put up with the general insanity of this fic.
> 
> Special thanks to Moonlark, legolaslover1, and Shannon Elizabeth. :) <3


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